It Would Only Take A Minute

It would only take one minute. 

You are sitting alone. Alone at the lunch table like you always are. But she is so alive, fire and the bright lightning of a storm. 

You could introduce yourself. It would only take a minute. 

You could walk over. 

A step for each second. 

One. Fifty-nine. 

Two. Fifty-eight.

Three. Fifty-seven. 

Would your feet stutter? Would your hands shake? 

Four. Fifty-six.

Five. Fifty-five. 

Six. Fifty-four. 

Would you trip over your own feet? Would someone bump into you? 

Seven. Fifty-three.

Eight. Fifty-two.

Nine. Fifty-one. 

Would you lose your nerve and scramble back, hoping nobody saw you? 

Ten. Fifty. 

You would tap her on the shoulder. You could make a funny joke about the lousy dining hall food, right? 

Forty-nine, forty-eight, forty-seven. 

She would laugh, god, you hope she would laugh. 

Forty-six, forty-five, forty-four. 

What would you say next? You would start to panic

Forty-three, forty-two, forty-one. 

God, she is beautiful. 

Forty. 

Dark hair and bronze skin, deep black eyes and a sharp jaw. 

Thirty-nine, thirty-eight, thirty-seven. 

But then she would ask you your name, and you would be surprised, because nobody has ever wanted to know before. 

Thirty-six, thirty-five, thirty-four. 

Luna, you would say, trying to project some confidence into your voice. 

Thirty-three, thirty-two, thirty-one. 

You would almost forget to ask her name, even though you already know it. 

Thirty. 

And what’s your name? You’d say, almost too late. 

Twenty-nine, twenty-eight, twenty-seven. 

Ava, she would say. 

Twenty-six, twenty-five, twenty-four. 

And it is so beautiful, coming from her mouth.

Twenty-three, twenty-two, twenty-one. 

What else is there to say?

Twenty. 

Do you invite her to eat with you? Do you ask her out? Here and now? 

Nineteen, eighteen, seventeen. 

The thought makes you cower in your own head. 

Sixteen, fifteen, fourteen. 

But she makes sure you don’t have to worry about that. 

Thirteen, twelve, eleven. 

Can I join you? She says, looking back at the table you abandoned. 

Ten. 

Yes. You would say. Yes, of course. 

Nine. 

Eight. 

Seven.

Six.

Five.

Four.

Three.

Two. 

One. 

It would only take one minute.