She sits at home, her fingers lightly grazing the keys of her piano. She sings with all of her heart, while her mind curses the ending of the song. She falls silent, her hands rest on her lap and her head bowed. She doesn't know why she feels the way she does, but she knows who does.
He turns on his lights, brightening his empty apartment. His keys, tossed negligently on the table, slide off and land with a clatter. He tosses his jacket in the chair by the door, while his mind curses the cold outside. He goes to his computer and checks his empty mailbox. He leans back and looks out the window, not knowing why he feels the way he does, but he knows who does.
She walks the campus, emotion veiled by smiles. She is everything to everyone, but what is she to herself, she curses. She goes from class to class, from meeting to meeting, feeling something is missing. She doesn't know why she feels the way she does, but she knows who does.
He goes to class, with an emptiness inside him. The halls are dark and threatening, but he barely notices. He listens to lectures, takes down all his notes. He talks to his friends, listening to their problems. He listens to their problems, but feels something missing. He doesn't know why he feels the way he does, but he knows who does.
She gets home from a long day, her body screams for sleep. She talks to her mother and describes her day. She checks her mail and she checks her journals. She sees him online and smiles. She knows why she feels the way she does, but does he?
He gets her message, which lights up his day. He replies and they talk for hours. Her veils come off as she describes her day. He listens and feels for her as she opens to him. He offers comfort and amusement and smiles. He knows why he feels the way he does, but does she?
They talk on the phone for all hours of the night. They are funny and serious, calm and irrational, centered and spontaneous... and they know why, but for now, they just enjoy the moment.
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