A painful memory

They were familiar to him.

It was as if the landscape had drifted away; the foreground but a fleeting image, as his violet eyes focused on the silhouette ahead. He flipped open his clamshell phone and sent a text message.

It was her, again. Her bag strap lay lazily by her side. He thought something, at that very moment. Something so recent, but one that felt so very distant. His pulse spiked. One sneakered shoe crossed over the other.

His head swiveled away, his neck craning to glance at the signboard behind him; pretty strange, indeed, for there was nothing on that signboard. He pouted, his face transfixed in concentration. She sauntered past, a sprightly spring in her step. He did not move his gaze. The signboard was still empty.

'Hey-' she said.
His left eye twitched. Again, she had cut short her sentence. This. This, was unfamiliar to him.
She looked away. Her nails made no sound as she flicked them, her eyes looking down. There was nothing on the floor to see.

'Hey.' she repeated.
Slowly, he stood up. And with bated breath, he walked away. He flipped open his clamshell phone again. But this time, he patiently tapped out full words, no longer opting for the shortforms he once preferred.

Her footsteps. They were so familiar.