"Mamihlapinatapai: A look shared by two people, each wishing that the other would initiate something that they both desire but which neither wants to begin."

I don't know how to cross that border. I wouldn't want to, either.

You say "Hi" loud enough to be heard over the headphones I'm always wearing whenever I walk in. I never say anything back, barely capable of twisting my facial features into something as close to a smile as I can manage. I turn into the bookshelves, hoping that a wall of titles can save me from making eye contact.

The whole thing plays out before it even starts. It happens in that space between heartbeats when I turn the corner, trying to rush out, and you are right there. "When I bump you an accident's a truth gate", Tare sings, and I back away, afraid to hear the truth.

Last time, you and I both turned away. I don't know if it was just you, or if it was mostly me (I always assume that it is), but I tug bitterly at books I want, hiding them all over the store and then walking away. Why start something you can't finish, I tell myself as I push open the door.

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