{A Michael Jackson Story}
He was broken glass, and she was untouchable. She thought she could read people, but he was a book without words. She held him in her hands, but she could not trust his actions, or even her own perceptions. After all, some...
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{M A U R A}
I swore he was looking right through me.
So I dared to turn around and look again. He was wearing that same hollow, disinterested look on his smooth, masculine features- yet his eyes told different tales.
Nothing particularly special was going on that night. I was begrudgingly riding the subway home, and it was late. I hated the subway so much-- the dark and sketchy hallways, the shifty characters, the stifling smell of urine.
Usually, I'd be sitting alone in a row, looking out into the blackness beyond the subway car- but I couldn't.
Every time I focused my attention on the window beside me, I felt him staring. I felt that unnatural prickle on the back of my neck, the one you experience when you know you're being studied closely.
Why couldn't I just ignore the man and bolt from the subway at the next stop? There was something about him, something about his face that had me yearning for his gaze again the minute he looked away.
And so it continued. I pretended to be listening to my walkman, he pretended to be wringing his hands. Then, his head would raise ever so slowly, I would watch his reflection in the window as his eyes wandered around the car and eventually settled on me.
At first, I pretended not to notice- until the urge to look back became too much. I pretended to stretch just so I could turn and look at him, only to be caught red-handed.
There was an awkward few seconds in which we, strangers who knew nothing of one another (or so I thought), were staring each other down.
My stomach churned as I looked into those glassy eyes, so dark and shiny- obsidian was the word that came to mind.
My breath stopped coming as I looked him over, and once I realized what I was doing the embarrassment forced me forward again. The subway hit a small bump, I gasped a little, and resolved to just keep my eyes closed for the rest of the ride.
I turned up my music.
Every man has a space... in his heart, there's a place... and the world can't erase his fantasy...
I had no clue how much time passed. All I know is that his presence hit me all at once. My body was cold, almost like the feeling you get after jumping into a swimming pool. I opened my eyes and he was there, in the seat right next to me.
