I see him across the hall.
He doesn’t see me.
Or maybe he does but doesn’t care.
Actually, he probably does.
Yeah, he probably does see me, but doesn’t want to.
I casually try to arrange it so that I walk down the same side of the hallway as him. I purposely don’t look at him so that he thinks I don’t notice him.
Just as I’m proud of myself for managing not to look at him, I look up and see that he’s gone.
He’s already halfway down the hallway.
Doesn’t care that I just went out of my way to walk by him and not look at him.
Does he know what he’s doing to me?
Does he know how I feel about him?
He does. But he doesn’t care. He just keeps on walking, getting smaller and smaller.
Millions of things happen at every moment. People being born, people falling in love, earthquakes and sunsets, rainfalls and death.
So why couldn’t he just look at me?