M. Suzanne Terry

Honey Lavender Latte from Seven Mile Cafe in Denton, TX

I see you across the shop. You look like you’re glowing. I remind myself that it’s probably just in my head; I have a bad habit of putting halos on people who never asked for them.

But then you turn, and your smile is so easy. And is that relief that I see when you see me? Are you relieved to see someone you know or to see me in particular? Is that an everyone look, or is that what the look you reserve for me is going to look like?

I stare so long, caught up in your gaze and what you may or may not mean by it. I forget to react in any way other than holding that gaze. If I were actually thinking about how I must look, I imagine it would just seem like I’m staring as if I don’t see you at all or don’t remember who you are.

The truth is that I see you. That I catch myself watching for you, even in places I have no reason to expect you to be.

Like here.

As I’m wondering why you’re here, your relief topples into uncertainty, and I realize I still haven’t changed expressions. So I smile. Brightly. Maybe too brightly. I don’t seem to have a mid-range. I go from seeming detachment to over-exuberance in a flash.

I decide to embrace the enthusiasm. I wave and start walking your way, and the relief comes back to your face. Whew. Good. You lock your eyes with mine as you walk toward me.

Yep. Definitely gonna overthink about that.