She wasn’t attractive as some of the others I had noticed so many times. Something about her, however, made me keep looking back at her – hoping she would not notice – hoping I was somewhere else.

The rain-drenched roads were shimmering off the lonely and old street lights, she stood there and I was certain she wanted to be with me. I felt funny – attracted and repulsed at the same time. There was a certain magnetism in the air between us; a connection between us that I couldn’t put a name to, but ringed familiar. As if I had known her many times over.

Eventually, she walked towards me. The repulsion was stronger than the attraction as she approached. She greeted me, we began talking – it nearly felt like an argument – even her greeting. Why didn’t I want her near me? What was going on in my head? Was it about something incomplete inside me – she didn’t seem to be the one who would complete it – yet she seemed to fill up parts in that empty basket of emotions that I tugged along all my life. Thought I had seemingly done nothing to invite her over, it seemed like an invitation from me. I could have walked away from her – years of being accustomed to a tied down feeling made me stand there – doing nothing – emotionally paralysed.

And I made her mine – knowing that she wasn’t mine; knowing that I never wanted her to be mine. And we walked together – I felt like I was dragging her – it was taxing for me to carry her along – almost a deadweight. And as we walked together – I knew – the only way she would leave me is if I knew the reasons why I had allowed her to walk towards me.

When I knew, I didn’t have to ask, she said goodbye, and walked away quietly in the wet dark alley.