Then I went back to continue whatever it was I was saying like nothing happened.
Did time stop? I'm sure he didn't see me looking at him.
He was just a meter away.

An hour later, on another floor, he stood behind me along the stage and she picked him. He turned her down.
Why was he there again? Who is he? I still love his hair.
He leaves my mind, and it was back to work.

Three days later, in the frenzy and comfort zone of work, I'm taken for a distraction. I am daunted. In the building beside where I worked, he was there.
He can't be the one. Why is he here? Who is he?
She introduces me to him. And I had to ask, "Were you there?" He replied with a smile, "I was."
It was him. It's the same dark brown blond curls.

I returned each night, the next couple of days, thinking it was just a strange coincidence. And played with the idea of just maybe, I could just keep watching him from afar. But things just happened. And like a sleepwalker, I don't remember the steps I took to be where I am now.

I want to wake up. I want to dream. I want them both.
Where am I?

"Wait until Sunday," he replied.