He looks as perpetually surprised as I remember him looking. An expression that on other people might be endearing, on him makes me suspicious. Wide open eyes, a slack mouth, an underlying blankness; these things I hold against him and always have.
Still makes me suspicious, even a year after our last fleeting, unacknowledged encounter in a a gymnasium crowded with people and their parents.

But seeing him now, I can feel the shadow of a smile curl one side of my mouth as we, supremely impassive both, see each other. A silent, utterly unacknowledged process of identification, resistance, and bemusement happens now, as we cross paths under the lowering gloom of disdainful skyscrapers and impending rain. A sardonic smile grows at the corner of my mouth, as I note the unwavering blankness behind his eyes: always there, always this vacuity staring out through his startled eyes.

No flicker of recognition crosses either of our faces. We were merely passing acquaintances who happened once – two years ago, three? – to work on a project together, when we made our confused dislike for each other absolutely, hilariously clear.
Names forgotten, only vague memories of misplaced retorts linger now. They hover in the clear, streetfilled space between us, fixing us into positions of mutual wariness.

And so we walk past each other now, in this city big enough that I can trust in sheer mathematical probability that I will see walking here people I have not seen in years, without making the slightest gesture towards a greeting.

The girl beside him, her neck crooked at just the angle that makes her fit right into Yorkville, made untouchable and oblivious by her oversized sunglasses, formal shorts, and scarf thrown carefully across her shoulders, does not note her friend’s momentary distraction.

Possibly no one does, except that, continuing on my way further into the shadow of the willowy offiskyscrapers, I laugh out loud at him and at myself, and the woman walking ahead of me turns around.