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Two magnets colliding, the strength like an invisible string attaching the two of you; seventeen years worth of pairs of eyes magnetically striking mine; a moment frozen in time; the body goes into a condition of alarm; but for an instant you don’t respond, for you enjoy that minute moment between you and someone else.
Some stares are jagged, toned, and convey something deeper than just eyes gathering. You question every move you’ve ever made, like a chess board, with each piece a momentous portion of the game. You cannot lament the move you’ve made, however, because, you cannot go in reverse. Stares are manuscript covers; not giving all information, but leaving you wondering enough about what ulterior motives live in it.
And then there is that stare, the stare of everything kept concealed inside together; yet from a distance screams the sound of a car crash, where nothing is left to preserve. That stare holds a justly emotion unexplainable, yet so unforgettable. The way it hits my body as it does often as I roam the vicinity. It’s a hurricane, so commanding to hammer me down like an unsullied plucked peg to an oxidized plank, breathtaking, and inevitable. It’s more than eye gaze, which is what a stare merely is, but an amalgamation of that and body lingo.
Hands perpendicularly lying on the contrary sides of the body, standing upright, against the wall, unperturbed, from lower body, upper body, until the eyes, that’s where it is dissimilar.
My mother’s stare is not like it, for hers is too loving and lackadaisical as she serves others while standing all day. My father’s is at ease, working at home; stare entirely attached to the computer for hours. My friends’ stares are bipolar, depending on their mood. Sometimes content, sometimes sad, sometimes confused all parallel to their attitudes, sitting at desks slaves to instruction. Not one soul who has ever entered my life has given me that same feeling inside; no one has ever surpassed or replicated the unsaid words attached to the stare; the stance, the stare, the person an ambiguity.
Is it an allusion of admiration or revulsion I ask? Should it be disregarded for the infamy of reliving the past? Cerebral and my conscious in mind, but at what expenditure; for this stare is divine.
It shall be my concluding year of this stare, like the magnets untwine moments will exceed by. This stare is blood-curdling and leaves me gone astray; however, I’m not prepared to let go of it, for it is the final time I see that stare ever again.