The bus ride feels ages long. Head rested on half-closed windows, soft wind blowing as the bus moves, the morning sun's gentle rays; it all feels like a scene ripped out from a movie; soft and surreal. You watch time tick away, in a reminder of how the seconds are slowly slipping right out of yor fingers. And you can do nothing but watch helplessly as it passes, willing the bus to go a little bit faster, just so you can have that one extra second with him.
Yearning weaves its pattern on one's heart in the most delicate of nature. Like fine lace, it wraps around it, gripping you tightly like an agonizing addiction, squeezing until you feel breathless.
The minute your feet touch the ground, the urge to run across the street is as strong as any high ever was, and you have to visibly control yourself to not lose control and just run, even though you know it'll not make any difference.
With shaking hands, you wait for him to show. If the bus ride felt like ages, this waiting still feels like eons and decades mixed up all together, passing, right until you see his face pop out from the crowd.
And suddenly, time comes to a stop altogether.
It's funny how the rom-coms play out scenes like this, showing how the world slows down and birds begins to sing when the main characters eyes meet for the first time. It's all awfully cliched and soapy. And you feel just that. But with every step he takes, the chanting of the wind rings in your ears, and you watch the world shift and change its colour to the melody; "You're here. You're here. You're here..."
The felicity of it all is like a roaring wave, and for a moment, you hear the ocean singing in your ears. You marvel at the feeling, thinking just how a person's mere presence can cause hurricanes inside your heart, scattering your well-collected thoughts, leaving you numb with happiness.
Talking has never been easy, but you watch him feel your silence with his own words, building up worlds inside your brain as you two take slow steps, walking with no fixed destination in mind.
He walks like a child. Looks at the world with bright yet calculative eyes. Dreamy, but always so aware.
You watch him tell stories that make your heart feel warm, watch him as he laughs, watch him as his eyes wander around, but always comes back to you in the end like a sailor returning home.
And you just watch him, desperately trying to capture each and every second, storing it in a precious box inside your head, keeping it safe for cold lonely nights.
And before you can even blink, time spreads its wings and flies.
Soon enough, you find yourself standing beside the very street you met him, waving him goodbye, and watching him go, with all his hurricanes and tsunamis, leaving you barren.
Your heart feels like a dying river with every step he takes, and it turns into a desert by the time he's out of sight. A single entity, creating life inside of you and also taking it away when he leaves. You ponder if he knows how much command he holds over your free heart.
The steps towards your house feel as heavy as bricks. The bus ride feels suffocating. You zone in and out of your scattered thoughts, trying to weave them back, to no avail. Your new destination waits ahead of you. But the world around you screams for you to go back.
A house, after all, is no home.
And home, for now, is lost in the horizon.