A Moment in Time: Two Kids on a Terrace

Spying on the mirror of self-reflection

I remember perfectly.
You were smoking there by the window, humming in your own thoughts.
And then, in a sudden hurry, you said:
“Come see this!”

I was lying on the bed, adolescently overthinking about how lucky I was to have you.
“Bring me the camera, come on. Get out of bed. Look at these two. Come on,” you said.
I got up, looked out the window.
And saw them.

How could I not remember it?
A girl and a boy were dancing. An entire terrace just for them.
“We look just like them,” you said with a wistful tone.
I couldn’t help but smile at your comment.
We were also young and carefree and obsessed with each other’s eyes.
I still recognize the power of that feeling.

As we watched, the inexperienced duet grew closer and closer.
The eyes closing into each other’s arms, swaying to the whispers only they could hear.
They were living in a world they could only inhabit, in a dimension separated from the rest of us.
I couldn’t help but feel envious.