​The possibility of being

The bursts of euphoria in your head. The memories of the firsts wading into the thoughts of could be-s.

The molecules implore you to run out, pass through. Steal a glance. Convince yourself. 

She exists. 

The repeated splashing of water, wiping your glasses when you look up and the haze tells you that it’s not just the glance that has followed you while you stormed by. It’s as if the mystic power has rushed the same molecules in her. She’s here. 

She’s real. 

The blurred vision makes brief contact. You wipe the glasses slowly as you walk by. If the molecules could speak, they’d cry out and not just speak. 

The piper of molecules begin to believe that it’s perhaps them that make her follow you, only to forget why she did. You sit down. Mind racing with the fresh vision of possibilities. It believes that she just snapped back to reality to calm those molecules and go back to where she belonged. She’s here. 

Is she real?


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