October 23rd, 2010
Silent Confessions
"How's paper cutting going?" I went up to the counter after much debating. There's really nothing else for me to ask. The weather on this dry humid July after is too obvious, he's obviously doing fine, and I've just asked him about his week before he was called away.
"Fine, just fine." He answered nonchalantly as he pulled out a few more paper from the large to-be-cut stack.
It's like a common question for us both now. We both knew that we were asking stupid questions. Of course paper cutting is going okay, of course we are doing just fine at whatever station we are helping out at. But sometimes, for the sake of having a conversation with each other, we'd bother to ask those meaningless questions repeatedly.
And at other times, when we were both on duty at different stations, or at least when one of us was, we'd glimpse at each other occasionally. It doesn't matter if it looked super obvious. It doesn't matter if we are ignoring the patrons. Because just for a moment, heart beating fast, face slightly red, I'd look over to his direction. Just to see what he was doing, even though I knew perfectly what he was doing. Sometimes our eyes would meet. It's almost like a silent confession, attempting to tell each other the one thing on our minds.
Except we never said it out loud.
Silent Confessions
"How's paper cutting going?" I went up to the counter after much debating. There's really nothing else for me to ask. The weather on this dry humid July after is too obvious, he's obviously doing fine, and I've just asked him about his week before he was called away.
"Fine, just fine." He answered nonchalantly as he pulled out a few more paper from the large to-be-cut stack.
It's like a common question for us both now. We both knew that we were asking stupid questions. Of course paper cutting is going okay, of course we are doing just fine at whatever station we are helping out at. But sometimes, for the sake of having a conversation with each other, we'd bother to ask those meaningless questions repeatedly.
And at other times, when we were both on duty at different stations, or at least when one of us was, we'd glimpse at each other occasionally. It doesn't matter if it looked super obvious. It doesn't matter if we are ignoring the patrons. Because just for a moment, heart beating fast, face slightly red, I'd look over to his direction. Just to see what he was doing, even though I knew perfectly what he was doing. Sometimes our eyes would meet. It's almost like a silent confession, attempting to tell each other the one thing on our minds.
Except we never said it out loud.
