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You in a Crowd of Them

A Cliche

By Nicole FennPublished 2 years ago โ€ข 2 min read
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You in a Crowd of Them
Photo by Florian Schneider on Unsplash

The crowd was thick, always thick,

25,000 people buzzing like bees.

The only time I could see the floor, the building empty, was early - too early.

But it was silent, peaceful, and calm. I never minded the quiet before the storm.

I wasn't at the job for long,

6 months in total during that summer.

But I made a number of friends, climbed a number of positions in those short few months.

Then there was you.

A quick interaction outside the employee entrance, me leaving, you arriving.

You had said something to me, I didn't hear; alas as the roaring ice cream freezer outspoke you.

You got closer,

my interest piqued. Then,

"I like your hair."

Oh?

No guy liked my hair, short, half-shaved, and dyed red. At least no guy that had actually told me.

But you did, no hesitation, as I was eager to leave the chaos from inside that entrance.

You stopped me then,

and I couldn't stop thinking about it.

Your face was there and familiar now, not even knowing your name.

But I would hear your voice and turn to expect to see your face in that crowd.

What's his name?

Where does he work?

How old is he?

Is he single?

All questions I pestered my coworkers for. Some rolling their eyes and others curious as well, finding that all out for me.

He worked in the warehouse, 27 years old, and yes he was indeed single.

His name floating around in my head, finding ways to "bump" into him again.

Turns out we both had the same plan.

Myself going to the warehouse to find you, yourself venturing to the floor to find me.

Then, among that crowd of 25,000 people,

You.

And my chest would constrict.

With a cart of items I had requested from the warehouse,

You.

And I'd wipe my palms on my pants, clammy.

Weaving through the endless crowd of

them

and I would only see

you.

You'd talk and even above the murmuring of the crowd, I'd only hear

you.

"What's your name?"

"Do you want to grab some coffee?"

And my heart would race for

you.

Your number on a scrap of paper tucked safely in my hand. And during the rest of that shift, all I could think was

you.

I saw only you from then on in the bumbling crowd of them.

Myself seeking you out when I'd hear you'd be coming,

a cart filled with more supplies.

Of course when I requested all of that, I only ever asked for

you.

We were alone after work, the both of us leaving, our shifts ending at the same time.

We stood by my car, talking of a first date when you had leaned forward just slightly.

I saw it coming, welcomed it even, meeting you halfway.

You became me, us, and our first kiss.

You.

Us.

And now?

no more.

love poems
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About the Creator

Nicole Fenn

Young, living - thriving? Writing every emotion, idea, or dream that intrigues me enough to put into a long string of words for others to absorb - in the hopes that someone relates, understands, and appreciates.

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