Her linguistic quirks come to the fore when she chats casually with some of the pupils she likes; her intellectual repertoire is evident, but her cheerfulness and enthusiasm when she is being listened to lead her to adopt a casual tone. A few weeks ago, before… that letter; I should have told her about things I know regarding the people around us (so as not to give the impression that I was telling her ‘gossip’, of course). I reckon I did something rather silly to keep the conversation going by mentioning something that had happened to me; her embarrassment was evident, but I managed to smooth things over and earned a smile. Her blush and her delight at having me as her listener, along with the way I looked at her, were obvious—perhaps even too obvious: likely the reason why she won’t look at me today, and when we happen to meet, I’m treated like a stranger.
Those eyes cut right through me. Her disdain for a compliment which I admit came across as cynical – though not intentionally, of course – was… It wasn’t the right moment or the right time for a simple act of boldness; I must say: a stupid one. I still find myself pondering what I ought to say or do about this silence. But here I am once again, watching her. With a tall man with curly hair, whose appearance I shall not describe here; she chats casually with him – who, ironically, has once again become merely her formal work colleague. When he finally left, I could sense her disheartenment (I believe). I ended up staring for far too long; the restless, yet at the same time kind, woman glanced around; realising I was watching her, I looked away as quickly as I could, though I don’t think I was quite quick enough.
‘…How long will I put up with my own audacity?…’, ‘…Sweet blush that robs me of my senses!…’ Just an ill-advised letter, which I admit I wrote too soon; with intentions that were far too intense.