Pending Passions

"Good morning," she says. They greet her well enough. They start talking. They start sharing. They start gossiping. "Good morning," she says. "How are you?" they ask. "I am okay," she says. They talk. They share lives. They share new information. They leave and continue with their day. "Good morning," she says. They do it all over again. Day after day, they greet and talk and everything's fine until it's not. And then they wonder. "I am okay," she says. She talks about her day, about the movie she just finished watching, about the new song she was listening to. She talks about the person in the next cube. She asks about her workmate's family. She asks about her friend's friend. She asks about the weather. They talk. It's all normal. They're all okay. Until they're not. "Good morning," they say. But she doesn't answer. "I am okay." She smiles. Her smile,

Overthinking dude's perspective I found her there, by the fountain where most couples and noisy teenagers hang out. She was alone, looking around, not minding anyone. She smiled occasionally to herself, probably remembering something funny. I couldn't help myself then. I started to approach her. My heart was pounding. I've never done this before. Would she think I'm a stalker? Would she think I'm weird? Would she run away and report me to the police? I checked myself quickly. I was dressed okay, decent enough. Few steps left and she turned and stared right at me, her smile frozen but her eyes alive. I stared back at her but looked down briefly, trying not to be rude. But when I looked up, she was still looking at me. Her face filled with changing micro-expressions. She seemed to be thinking of a million things. I was thinking of only one. "Hi." I waved at her slightly. She broke her stare and looked down, gently laughing at herself. "What'