It is five in the afternoon. The sun is setting. It is autumn, so the sky has a wonderfully dark orange tone. I am walking rather fast. It rained earlier today, so my shoes make a wet, smacking noise on the pavement. Cars pass closely by me, but I do not mind. All I can listen to is my heart, pounding like a drum inside my ribs. I feel it all around my body - a rapid thump-thump in my head, my arms, my legs, my trunk. I feel sick as my stomach churns up and down, in circles and spirals, like a centrifuge. Just like my thoughts. Just like my feelings.

It has not been long since I last saw him. In fact, we saw each other yesterday, and the day before, and every day before that; though for a short, brief moment:

“Hi!”

“Hi!”

We peck kiss. Smile. Go away from each other.

It is always like that when we meet at the gym, but we know there is nothing more we can do. Time is short - both of us have to go back home to our families, sleep early and have school the next day. Still, we appreciate that short, brief moment everyday. And though I see him almost every day, I cannot help but to feel nervous every time I meet him. Just like now. 

I cross the zebra crossing with my head low. It is freezing cold, but I feel my hands sweating inside my canguru hoodie pocket. I look up. The public square is full, just like every Sunday. I observe as kids run around - boys after balls, girls with their stuffed animals in hand. Parents smile at their children. Loud laughs and squeaks. I feel lighter. I see couples, too, calmly walking and holding hands. Some are seated on benches, observing the happy families, perhaps dreaming about a future together. They kiss, look each other in the eye, and smile.

My eyes dart through the crowd. They look for a specific person - dark skin, dark hair, dark eyes. I walk slowly, calmly, my body language inconsistent with my state of mind. Walk a little more. Each second seems to increase the intensity of the centrifuge inside me. Each step on the wet grass corresponds to dozens of drum beats inside my circulatory system.

Suddenly, in between a prolonged step, the drum stops. The centrifuge turns off. Instead, gravity loses its force on me, and I feel so light I could float from the ground. I see him. I smile, he smiles. We walk into one another looking to the ground, avoiding each other’s eyes and disguising our liveliness. 

Our eyes meet. I start to pronounce a greeting, but his lips impede me. 

“Hi”, he says, smiling as his face moves away from mine.

“Hi”, I say, smiling and processing. I remember to breathe. 

“So… What’s up, Miss?” he asks in his malicious tone, as always. I had forgotten how much I loved that.

“Nothing much, and you?” I ask, in the same tone.

“Same thing.”

We lock eyes with each other for a quick, long moment. We initiate the dance of hands: His slip from his pocket to my waist, slowly. Mine to his neck, slowly. He joins his fingers behind my back. I join mine behind his neck. His travel gently up and down. Mines move from the top to the bottom of the back of his head. He makes the circumference of my body. I caress his ears. 

“Your second ear piercing hole is closing.” I say, observing his earlobe.

“Yeah, it is.” He laughs, looking at me.

“What’s so funny?” I ask, smiling.

“No, nothing,” He laughs once more, “It’s just that the first thing you say to me is about my ear piercing hole.”

I start laughing, “Ok, that’s funny.”

A moment of silence.

“Let’s walk a little? Or do you prefer sitting somewhere?” He asks.

“Hum… Let’s walk, I wanted to get coffee at that cafe I told you about”

“Sure!”

We join our hands, kiss and smile. We take prolonged steps on the wet grass. The centrifuge seems to have stopped working.