He was someone to her now more than ever.  She couldn’t quite remember when it had changed, though it had taken a turn rather recently.  They struck up a conversation, and the hallways seemed to empty almost instantaneously.  Those surrounding them seemed to melt into the surrounding walls as they spoke.  It was cliché, a movie moment, perhaps.  She felt as though she were invulnerable now, while delicate and fragile.  A feeling of etherealness spread over her when suddenly, it shattered.  The fragments of the moment rained about her, sticking on his clothing, trailing behind his abrupt “good-bye”.

She tried to salvage the conversation.  There was a “wait ” that clawed it’s way through her throat and wrenched open her jaw to escape and obtain it’s final moment of freedom before dissipating.  He turned and she looked frantically around, searching for the mischievous wait so that she could strangle its fragil, metaphorical neck.  But it was far too late.  He was back, facing her, expectant.  She prayed to whatever god or deity she didn’t and refused to believe in for something witty to follow suit from the what.  No.  She was stuck with a rogue “there’s something on your neck”. There was a small spot there, barely noticeable, resting below his chin.  He immediately and ungracefully reached up to remove it, though still it remained.  Maliciously sitting, stewing, intruding.  He moved his hand away and tilted his neck so that she could indicate to hi where it was.  She cautiously reached forward and pressed, rather unceremoniously, the spot so he could find it himself.  He thanked her, and left.  The moment was over, obliterated by a farewell.