Excuse Me

A day like any other, it could be any day

But it is this day that I will remember:

Suddenly I am aware of a new thing.

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I fix the room in my mind, I will be telling my children,

My grandchildren, anyone who will listen,

Exactly what this place is like; the place I first saw you.

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How the mirrors behind the bar made me think it was bigger than it really was,

How the music was too loud, and not my sort of thing at all,

How the decor faded and the music stilled, when I first saw you.

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I know everyone says “I knew…” but I knew.

Like I know gravity. Like I know to breathe.

Like my heart knows how to beat.

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And then it’s too much to bear.

Do I need the strain?

Is this really a good idea?

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She probably has someone.

She probably won’t like me.

She’ll probably say no.

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No. I can’t let this moment slide into the sea of maybes.

Can’t live forever wondering.

Can’t wake at 2am one night and know I missed my chance.

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Uncertain. Queasy. Excited.

A lifetime lived in milliseconds: first words, dramas, starlit walks, fireside chats.

I know you already. I don’t even know your name.

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The blood drums in my ears. I start to sweat.

I swallow, and again. I can’t, I must, I must, I can’t, I…

Must. Now. It’s time.

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I cross the room.

“Excuse me…”