In that exact singular split of a second, the entire universe of possibilities happens. Every world, in every galaxy, every kind of probable situation in every corner on every kind of Earth happens.

In that sparkle of light reflecting off from his eyes�have I seen him before?

In every strand of his hair swaying in the gentle breeze�why is he walking my way?

Around the corner of his lips�he's smiling.

He's asking if I want dinner. But we will end up going to the theaters and munch on buckets of salted popcorn instead. He might return me the necklace I passed him for a repair. I will ask him if he watched the match against Manchester United, just to feel relevant. But then feel stupid for asking because he definitely did. Maybe we might go back to his room for more movies. Maybe we might take a walk down his favorite place.

In that exact singular split of a second nothing might happen and so nothing happens and nothing will ever happen. But you take credit, anyway, for whatever that didn't happen because that alone is something that happened�you take credit for all the other possibilities that could have been.

But that singular split of a second is never revisited again. Never reminisced for any longer than it lasted. The sweet taste that never comes�never will.

And yet, it was sweet.