The book store smelled different, it wasn’t the usual scent of new and old pages, there was something else, you look around wondering if the other patrons notice, it doesn’t seem like they do, you shrug and go on about your business, maybe it’s just you, you think to yourself.
You don’t know what you’re looking for yet, you will know when you see it, this was your routine, every Christmas Eve found you in the bookstore three streets from your house, the long walk never bothered you, rather you looked forward to it, the only time you could truly breathe.
Your house was hardly a refuge from the world outside, being the last child in a family of five was anything but rosy, your house wasn’t home. Friends would talk about longing for their families.
Longing.
A territory unfamiliar to you. It is in this moment that you realize you’ve stopped searching for what you don’t know yet, this is because someone has just touched you, rather, bumped into you.
“I’m sorry, I wasn’t looking” “it’s fine” you say, because it really is. In fact, you wish she had bumped into you sooner, it would have saved you from traveling down memory lane, it would have caused you to fixate on something else, the thought of her.
“it’s okay really, I wasn’t here either.” She offers a smile that speaks to you, it tells you what you’ve been searching for, it tells you what she represents. You don’t want to admit it to yourself just yet, you think it ridiculous that you already feel this way. To you, it’s like tunnel vision.
Suddenly, she’s all you can see, the background noise in the store is lost somewhere in the haze you’re in. “Are you still here?” she asks.
You try to read her countenance, this time it gives nothing away, you can’t tell what she’s thinking or feeling, so you speak. “Yes. Yes I’m still here.” You utter those words and notice how freely they come out.
You are aware of the warmth in your chest, you don’t find it uncomfortable, you want the feeling to never leave.
You rack your brain for the next words to say but come up short, you’re not embarrassed or anxious, you are okay because you know she’s not bothered by your silence.
“I’m Idara” She offers. You see the barely noticeable smile on her face. Her face. In a split second you sweep your gaze over it and rest your eyes on the birthmark above an eyebrow, you wonder if this is what love feels like, you hear Adekunle Gold’s ‘ Orente ‘ playing somewhere in the background and you marvel at the perfection of the moment.
Longing.
An idea once strange and unknown, now, banal. “I’m Enitan… Thank you for bumping into me.”
She lets out a loud laugh, the next words that leave her mouth leaves your heart fluttering in your chest, her laughter fades into a smile as she says them. “I’m glad I did.”
