I am stressed! Sorry for not updating anything. I will try a little harder. Promise. Read, review, and enjoy!

Be honest. Do you like having me chase after you in my dreams or in reality? You like it, don't you? Knowing that someone, me specifically, can't forget you. It's not as if I didn't want to erase you from my memories because I did. Oh, how I prayed that you would just leave me alone, but you make it impossible. Literally. How can you smother a person's existence if they suddenly appear? You can't. That's why I think you are a witch. Or a wizard. I mean, to make it rain, and to some how compel me to walk a different path than usual must be your work, right?

I would pass you without another glance, but you look so damn pitiful at the moment. Do you like getting sick? Because I am sure that getting drenched to the bone will cause it. Your thin clothes are definitely protecting you from the elements at all. The shirt you have is clinging to you like skin, and I would know because I can see your pale back through the flimsy material. Your pants are in the same state as your t-shirt, but fortunately or unfortunately, depending on how you see it, your lower body is not visible. Your hair is mated to your skull. And though you are so obviously a sad sight, for some annoying reason, I smile. A little.

The only reason why I come over to you is not to cover you with my umbrella in an attempt to shield you from the drops of water falling from the clouds. No, I only want to know what has your attention. What has the attention I seem to not be able to get from you. But if you wanna offer your appreciation, I wouldn't be totally opposed by it. A word of gratitude would suffice.

Or anything. Why can't you give me any sign that you actually know that I am beside you? When I place the umbrella over us, I expect you to look up at me, itching to know what gave you the sudden shelter from the weather, but you remain fixated by the box in front of you. The box that has a lone puppy, whimpering in the blanket that is providing little warmth, I'm sure. It's cute, I suppose, but did it really deserve your undivided focus? Is this your subtle way of telling me that I am not more interesting than the dog? I am not particularly fond of the canines, but I guess I can see their appeal. A man's best friend, right? Well, give me a chance, and I can be your best friend! They make great companions, but so could I. They give you licks or kisses. Well, hello! I'd definitely do that if needed. Whatever that puppy could do, I could do it ten times better so please turn around!

You pay no mind to me as per usual when I bend down to your level. You merely reach for the animal, cradling it to your chest, though, with how soaked you are, I doubt you are transferring any of your heat to the newborn. That does not stop you from trying. You just puff out warm breaths of air onto the dog. Should I do that to you? I am almost positive that you would actually turn around if you felt someone breathing down your neck. Unless you are used to that, then I guess I would have to change my tactic. Maybe scoop you into my jacket or set you on fire. Surely you would care if I did that, right?

I am tired of your aloofness. I will not stand for it any longer. I carefully but swiftly take the dog from you hands. Look at me, I think. I press the dog to my neck, feeling it shiver consistently. The puppy whimpers a little from being jostled. Look at me. You don't glance up. You just stare at your now empty hands. Look. At. Me. You finally stand, and move your body in my direction. Look at me! And you do. It's brief, but our eyes meet, and I am completely lost. Lost in their color and their depth. I am at a loss of what to say as well. I am completely stunned. So frozen that you manage to snatch the tiny dog from me. You take it, rub it against your face, and then, you glare at me. But your fierce expression melts. A small, and I mean small, twitch of your mouth occupies your facial features, and I know it is as much of a smile that I could hope for at this time.

You turn and leave. But I am happy. For once, you made me happy because this means that I am slowly wearing you down. This means that I can anticipate more when we next meet. A turn of your lips here, but maybe next time, you might give me a full smile. You could even say a greeting to me. Ask me my name or give me yours. You could tell me why people avoid you the way that they do. You could tell me your age, your hobbies, your everything. I could tell you so many things, and maybe you would respond. Maybe. Just maybe. And that is what I go home thinking. The possibilities of those maybes.