Our gazes meet. Your toffee eyes gleam in the low light.

I've waited for this moment—the moment when you confess

your affections for me. I've waited for you to initiate what we

both desire. But I've waited for two years, and all we can

manage is a long stare across the room. Neither of us wishes

to make the first move. We remain "what could have been"

and not "what is." Perhaps we were happy together in

another life; it's for the best.