A Moment in Time

 It happens in a fraction of a second.

No words. No movement. No grand declarations. Just a look.

She looks at me.

I look at her.

Neither of us blinks.

The world should move around us, but it doesn’t. The hum of voices in the background, the shuffling of feet, the occasional laughter—all of it fades into a dull, distant hum. It’s as if the universe has pressed pause on everything except this moment, this locked gaze, this silent exchange that holds more weight than a thousand spoken words.

I don’t know if she meant to look at me or if it was just a coincidence. Maybe her eyes merely drifted in my direction, and I happened to be in the way. But I want to believe otherwise. I want to believe this is intentional. That for this one second, she is seeing me—not just noticing, but seeing.

What is she thinking?

Is she wondering why I’m staring back? Is she surprised that I haven’t looked away? Maybe she is waiting for me to say something. A simple “Hi.” A nod. A smile. Anything. But my lips stay still, my breath caught somewhere between my ribs and my throat, unable to break free.

The air is thick, not with awkwardness, but with something else. Something unspoken, something heavy. It sits between us like an invisible thread stretched taut, fragile yet unbreakable. I wonder if she feels it too.

Should I smile? Should I break this moment before it breaks me?

But the thing is—I don’t want to.

Because in this silence, in this lack of action, there is a strange kind of perfection.

We exist in it, untouched by the expectations of the world. There is no pressure to say something clever, no need to fill the void with empty words. It is raw, unscripted, and entirely real.

My heartbeat quickens, thudding in my chest like a drum in an empty hall. It’s ridiculous, how a single look can do this to me. How it can tilt my world just enough to make me question everything.

Then, in the smallest of movements, her lips part ever so slightly.

Not to speak. Not to smile. Just enough to make me wonder what she was about to say before she decided against it.

My mind races through a thousand possibilities—what if I stepped forward? What if I reached out? What if I shattered the silence with something meaningful, something that could make this moment last beyond these few fleeting seconds?

And yet, neither of us moves.

Neither of us blinks.

And then—

She looks away.

The thread snaps. The spell is broken.

The world rushes back in, loud and chaotic, as if it had been waiting impatiently for us to finish whatever unspoken thing had been happening between us.

I exhale. I didn’t even realize I had been holding my breath.

Did that mean something? Or was it just another passing moment in an endless stream of moments? Will she remember this, just as I will?

I don’t know.

But I do know this—

For a brief, weightless second, she and I existed in the same unspoken thought.

And maybe, just maybe, that was enough.