Tapping the glass


“I guess you’ll know when a woman is in love. Or specifically, in love with you,” he smiled wistfully.

 

“How would you know?” I asked.

 

He pursed his lips. He was now deep in thought. Unlike the declaration he made a few seconds ago, it seemed like he wasn’t too sure about what he said.

 

“Her eyes,” his voice was soft, almost like a whisper.

 

“They’ll sparkle. They’ll light up. They’ll let you know that you’ve become the best thing she has ever set her sights on,” an explanation before he sniggered. “It doesn’t matter if you believe it or not.

 

“A smile would come naturally too. Maybe a shy one, if she’s a little afraid of showing too much. Or a confident one, if she’s very sure of herself. It’ll be a comfortable smile. From her heart, no less. Genuine.”

 

He sniffed as he spoke the last word. Then he gazed out of the window while his fingers were tapping gently on the glass which held the whiskey he ordered a few moments ago.

 

It seemed like he was composing his thoughts again.

 

“She’ll engage you in a conversation – one that she’ll try to delight you with. After all, it is your company that she seeks,” he muttered after the five-second gaze outside of the window.

 

“For all other instances,” a grin was now flashed on his face, “I’m afraid you’re in her ‘friend-zone’.”

One Comment

  1. smudgi3

    Your friend, i’m afraid, isn’t very well-versed in a woman’s language of love. *patpat

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