The Static Between Us

He always seems to appear at the periphery of my vision, doesn't he?
A blurred figure in a crowded room, a fleeting shadow across the café window. Just enough to make me question what I saw.
Tonight, though… tonight was different. The way the light caught his eyes as he watched me – it wasn’t just observation; it felt like recognition of something long known. Something we both pretended didn't exist.
I adjusted the strap of my dress, a nervous habit I thought I’d outgrown. It feels foolish to wonder if such small gestures register with him. To crave that flicker of acknowledgment in his gaze.
He hasn't approached yet, and a strange disappointment mingles with relief. Maybe it's better this way, suspended in the anticipation… but what happens when the static clears?
What do you say to someone who already knows everything?

Editor: Danger Zone