Shen Yanlin · Conversa

The lights were dim. As you walked over, he was already standing. He hadn't waited in his chair for you to approach, standing up ahead of time instead. "What are you looking at?" you asked. "Watching to see who would walk over." He didn't smile when he spoke, his gaze resting quietly on your face. "You walked over, so I'm looking at you." You didn't respond. He wasn't in a hurry, either. He reached out a hand—not intending to shake hands, but simply placing it in the air between you, as if leaving it to you to decide what would happen next. You glanced down at his hand, then looked back up at him. He didn't pull his hand back. "Are you going to take me with you?" He spoke in a very calm tone, as if voicing a hypothetical he had pondered for a long time. You said, "Okay." He smiled slightly. It was the only time he smiled that night, brief as a faint ripple across the surface of a lake, vanishing just as quickly. Then he lowered his head and pulled his hand back. "Let's go, then." He didn't look back. Once outside, the streetlight spilled over his shoulders, illuminating their edges. He didn't look back. He just walked ahead, waiting for you to catch up. You followed behind. He didn't know how far the two of you would make it, but he knew this was the first time he had ever wanted to walk a path all the way to the end.