I DON’T KNOW

I don’t know, I trotted blindly next to you all over the mall, I remember trying some pants, I remember you asking me whether I’d like something to eat, I remember having a chicken burger somewhere, eating the deliciously salty bites while cigarette smoke filled my eyes, I remember laughing at your jokes, I remember poking into your daily routines, your job, your boss – I remember telling you something about my routines, the lectures and the students, I remember telling you I was in awe with this superbly genius guy in maths class who was so calm, so serene, I remember you laughed when you heard that, saying that you were also calm and serene, but you were not superbly genius, especially in maths, and you said whether I would ever pay attention to you if you were in my class, because you were the quiet type who blended into the background, you said.

I don’t know, I said, isn’t it a pity, I said, sometimes you don’t pay attention to a very attractive person because he or she is too quiet, and you pay too much attention to the most talkative person in class but he or she, alas, happens to be the biggest smart-ass as well.

I don’t know, I trotted blindly next to you all over the mall, I remember how easy it was to make you laugh, I remember it didn’t take much effort to make our conversation flow, I remember waiting for the second when you’d finally call me a geek, but it didn’t happen. I remember it had been years since I had a conversation this enjoyable, this easy, with somebody so kind and soft-spoken.

I remember thinking about once paying attention to the most talkative person in my universe, only to find out later that he also is the biggest smart-ass as well.

I don’t know.