Nor can I remember it. I vaguely recall how surprised I was by how deep and calm his voice sounded. I've only spoken to him once and that was to direct him to the paper towels in the kitchen. I'm not sure what he does in the office, except that he sits somewhere over there. But everytime he walks past my desk on his way back from the loos, I notice.
And it's not because I'm attracted to him, or not. It's not really about that at all.
It's that he bears a striking resemblance to the man that first kissed me. Not how he is today- that time and how I felt is long gone- but how he was. How I remember it in its poignant, surreal, intense glory.
As we stood in the cold today, forced out by the fire alarm, he must have felt my gaze, as he held it a moment. We both looked away, and then through the crowd, looked back again.
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