"I'm just running lines in my head..."

It began with my late night musing; slowly strolling up and down a walkway when I saw you walk past. We made eye contact but it was dark so I did not care too much. Past the walkway towards the staircase, you paused and made your way back, and I immediately knew you were coming for me. But then again, I “meh’d” it and withdrew my business to my reigns.

“You are meditating?” You spoke right after you had brushed past me.

I knew you came back just to speak with me. You’d avoided the shortcut you’d used earlier that should’ve led to your “destination”, and just so happened to speak a fraction of second after that dying minute — that nothing-to-lose-nothing-to-gain moment of “if he hears me, cool, if he does not, also cool”.

“Uh?” I asked. I was right, damn my chest is pounding. You turned around to meet me and repeated. “You seem to be meditating, right?”

You don’t ask a total stranger that unless you want to talk to them. Y’all don’t mind your businesses, but…

“I’m just running lines in my head.” I really want to tell you about the script I’m working on that has stolen my headspace and how uncertain I am about wording a character “Deaconess Yetunde”, but we literally JUST met.

“What did you say?” He asked, which I responded with a bit of pride—I know! I really do have a flair for good vocabulary and accent. “I’m just running lines in my head, nothing much.” I’m not a crazy person, don’t judge me.

We begin to talk; you ask questions, I answer; I throw my curious thoughts at you, and you resolve them. “Is he one of em dumb ones too?” My brows furrow at a point after you threw out a certain question. But I guess you just don’t have the necessarily required knowledge, which is, quite honestly, cute. And that brief two minute walk-talk to the end of the walkway was…new for me. He speaks really well: very soft and educated. URGH A TRUE DEVIL! You wanna be my Achilles heel? NEVER! Pain of being a sapiosexual.

Our talk nearly reaching a bottleneck, we arrive at our forking paths, but before you leave, you say…

“I’m Be—” I can’t remember your name, but I swear it ended with an “L” and had like five letters of the alphabets. “You?” You say really softly, nearly indiscernible.

And after straining my ears a bit, “I’m Sidney…” I smiled and we shook, the tips of our hands touching. What soft palms. You walked over to your “destination” and I was left to the untoward and fro of my musing. What a night.