The Stare

I think it’s the beard. It’s definitely the glasses. She’s never done this before. You must remind her of someone. She’s in love with you. She’s skeptical. Pensive. Confused maybe? Intrigued….possibly. I’ll never know.

I wave. Nothing. I blow up my cheeks and cross my eyes. Nothing. Just the stare. I smile and reach for her hand. Nothing. I touch her leg. Nothing. Hello! She can’t hear me. She can’t hear anything. I reach for the police car she’s been rolling around on the floor. She pulls it behind her back and glances around the room full of cribs and then refocuses on me. I scoot over and get attacked by an alligator in the hands of another four year old. I return to her after some time, and she just stares. “While you were gone she was laughing and smiling!” With me, she just stares.

I can’t even remember the young orphan's name. I doesn’t matter. I hope it was love. I hope I reminded her of something good and wonderful, but I doubt it. I hope she remembers me, but I doubt she will. I won't soon forget her.