We passed.
Elevator door open
You enter
I look at ceiling
You stare at floor
6 floors up
We exit.
I escalator up
You escalator down
I look left.
You look right.
We catch a glance of each other
Without a hint of acknowledgment.
Then I heard…They said you passed on.
I’m sorry our eyes
never met.
Like the look between quarterback and receiver
Before they connected for a score.
Incomplete. Dropped. Missed.
If only
I’d found
The gall
To commit an illegal procedure
Stop the elevator between floors
Look you in the eye and ask, “how are you.”
It didn’t happen
We both carried on
Business as usual.
I like that.
I especially like it because I had an elevator conversation just that other day, when it would have been so easy, just to pass.