The Look On Her Face

I thought everything would be magical like in a movie. I thought that this mystery women and i would connect on some level. She would hug me, thank me for making her feel again, and ask to buy me lunch. It wasnt until I was being escorted out of the Chicago Modern Art Museum that I remembered, we dont live in a movie, we live in real life. People dont just walk up to strangers and hug them, or at least not very often.

Maybe I thought she needed somthing from me, maybe I needed somthing from her. Maybe I wanted to add some magic and surrealness to this cold, stale world we live in. A world where when you want to have a connection with another human being they think you’re a rapist or a murderer. I dont see why you cant just smile and touch other people without it being a matter of sexual desire. I thought of her and that look on her face. She was scared. As I was being dragged out into the street, I didnt think of jail or of Clarissa. All I could think of was this world we live in and the look on her face.

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