Eye On You.

A cold January morning. The air is still, glacial. The world is
partially frozen and struggles to make the smallest of movements.
Through the misty glass of the train window, I watch the snow, soft
powdery flakes overlaying everything. In the clear winter light there
is an almost imperceptible shimmer, a subtle attempt at hypnosis. I am
captured.

I press my face against the glass and my breath condenses. Then I see
you. You are the reason I came here this morning. I've been so anxious
to see you again, have wanted it for a long time. I've been waiting.
Sometimes, I feel that I've been waiting all my life. For you. Your
voice, insinuating its way through my dream, has made me mad. The marks
you have left in my thoughts, like tiny bruises, have driven me to
desperate acts. In your name.

You are too graceful. Like a character from an old film, you stand on
the platform. You dark hair, your white faces and hands. Your
expensively understated clothes. Do you know I've been watching you?
You didn't last night. You weren't aware of me a few feet away from you
in the bar of your hotel. Your conversation was amazing. All that
talking, laughing. All the men in the palm of your hand. I listened in
a kind of sweet despair. You've had me between your fingers for years
and you've never known.

Or have you? Sometimes I've seen you look at me with the trace of a
smile. Do you recognise my face? Have you seen me at the next table in
your favourite restaurant? Do you notice me walking a few steps behind
you in the street, feel my breath on the back of you neck as I stand
right behind you in the church on Christmas Eve. I shook your hand at
the funeral. Your perfume was beautiful. Can't you see the sacrfices I
have made for you? The risks I have taken to be near you?

It doesn't seem strange that we've never spoken. One day we will. I'll
call you Emma and touch your face. You'll speak to me as if I were an
old friend because, in a way, I am. I've been with you for a long time.
I think I deserve some tenderness. Don't I?

The moment is now. I get up from my seat, leave my cold place on the
train, step lightly through the door and onto the platform. My heart
fills up with joy when I see you, your face turning towards me as I
approach. I think of all the imaginary converations we've had since I
first saw you. As I get nearer to you, the tide of words grows
stronger. It chokes me.

'Excuse me, I...'

You're looking at me. Your eyes are full of questions. I try
again.

'I......'

The words die in my mouth. You turn away from me and I think I see you
smile. Are you laughing at me? My tongue is a brittle thing. My eyes
are wet with tears. You walk into the arms of a good-looking man. I see
you kiss and feels the feeling draining out of me. It's cold.

The train moves off and carries you with it. You and your lover. But I
am comforted. In know that one day you will understand what we have,
how special it is between us. And you 'll be able to forgive me for
what I must do. You'll forgive me for gently pressing your lover's neck
untill I feel the little crack. I'll do this to free you. Just as I
freed you from the other one. I'm following you. My eye's always on
you. I am your friend.