Untold Stories

Never when the noisiness of shuffling feet or obligatory laughs fill the spaces between door and window. Always when the other door closes and I am alone. I thought I was alone. The once frivolous pursuit of thoughts switch to peeks and glimpses of Her spilling coffee and the lines of His unmoving lips. "What is your name?" I ask. She turns the corner, her skirt lightly catches wind. "Wait!" I close my eyes. Why have they chosen a mind like mine? Selfish, buttoned up mind. I can hear Him catch Her around the corner. I imagine She runs right into his chest. Thud. There goes the coffee. I turn the corner and giggle at the sight. She hides Herself quietly, neatly behind Him. "Show me your faces." I ask politely. "Show me your faces." I ask a little less politely. Fumbling with the chain, He opens his copper pocket watch; it reads: "Tell them the story."