That Look

I wonder if it was a dream, all of it.

You looked at me like you were trying to look right through me, as if I had the answers to those burning questions you held, like you were trying to peel away those carefully constructed layers I had put up around myself. You gazed at me so intently, as if you were trying to memorize every contour of my face.

I should have felt uncomfortable under all that scrutiny, and yet there was a part of me that responded to that look, like an unspoken challenge of sort and I met your gaze with my own. Challenge met, and accepted.

It seemed to definite and yet every time I tried to think back of what happened, the memory seems to evade me, dancing at the edges of my mind.

Did I dream it all?

It seemed so vague in my head, like something so unlikely to happen.

I only remember that look.