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The Shadow Sun

-What Could have Been-
June 26, 3:43 P.M
420 Words

I sat there, in the darkness of the theater. It was calm, quiet; with the sublime sense of the iridescent light flinging itself from the screen, enhancing the mood ever slightly. The cushion of the seat beneath me gripped my body in a hold of entrancement and bewilderment. My mind raced, pacing up and down an imaginary court, trying to figure out which play would be the one to have the right moves. I scratched the back of my head, feeling my wavy, brown hair, thinking as my olive, cat-like eyes shifted upon her picturesque form.

There was something different about her, different from any other girl. Something that was sweet yet strong, with a sort of guile between the madness. She had a pretty face, with a small, cute nose, and lips that shone with a lustrous glow. Her eyes were an intense shade of gold and black, and when I stared into them, I lost myself in her beauty. Her hair was blonde and short, drawn back and held by a simple black hair tie.

Together we sat, looking up at the screen. Every now and then we would glance over at each other, smile, then look back towards the screen. It was an odd sort of romanticism. The connection was there, I could feel it in my heart. Blood pumped through my veins as love surged through my soul, yet I was paralyzed, unable to move. My brain was confused, and turned itself over and over, creating knots of synapses in my head.

When I think back to this moment, I always hate myself, there were so many things I could have done. I could have kissed her upon her glossy lips, or taken her hand in mine. I could have moved her close to me, and cuddled with her, forever and ever in a moment of bliss. But for some reason, this didn't seem right. I sat there, in the darkness of the theater, watching her and smiling as I stared into her eyes, losing myself from reality. I know I should have done something. I know I should have kissed her. But for some reason, I didn't.

So I replay this moment, over and over. Like some sort of old song dieing in the wind. I think back, and remember myself as the fool that could never get past the calm beauty of the moment. The fool that could never figure out why he didn't kiss her, and the fool that will always regret what could have been.

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