I saw you again one day in the most mundane of places: the grocery store. I was in the pasta aisle, and I almost dropped the bag of spaghetti I was holding when I saw you. Your back was to me, but it didn’t matter. I would recognize you anywhere; I would know you drunk or blind, in this life or the next.

You picked up a jar of pasta sauce in each hand. My eyes drank you in, greedy, wanting, even as my brain screamed at me to leave, to make sure you didn’t see me. The traitorous thing in my chest protested, and I didn’t know who I was listening to, I just knew that my legs wouldn’t move and I might as well have been affixed to the ground.

You put one of the jars back on the shelf and the other in your basket. I wondered if you remembered to buy milk. You always forgot, and I always had to remind you. I wondered if there was someone else in your life to remind you about these things now.

“Excuse me, miss?” An unfamiliar voice cut through my thoughts. I blinked and saw a middle-aged lady looking hesitantly at me. “You’re blocking the shelf.”

“Oh – oh, sorry.” I hurriedly moved away so she could reach the bags of pasta behind me.

“Thank you,” she said, and I gave a stiff smile back. She grabbed a pack of rotini and went on her way.

“Jessi?” My heart stopped at that name, at that voice. I looked up involuntarily, helplessly, and was met with the full force of your smile. Well, maybe not the full force. Your smile was dimmer than usual, your eyes darker. My eyes roved over your face, greedy, wanting. I didn’t like how pale and wan you looked, like the light you usually radiated had leached out of you.

Your smile faded when I didn’t reply and just kept staring at you. I knew that I should stop, that I should say something, maybe ask you how you are (are you with anyone) or comment about the pasta sauce you picked (Ragu mushroom, your favourite), but my throat was locked with the words I didn’t know how to say and my eyes were locked on your face.

“Jessica?” you asked, with the slightest hesitance before the last syllable.

“Tiffany.” It was all I could manage.

“I didn’t expect to see you here.” Your smile returned. “How are you?”

I held out the bag of spaghetti I was holding like it was an answer. My eyes dropped from your face and landed naturally on your basket. Along with the jar of Ragu, you had garlic, basil and ground beef – all the ingredients to make pasta aside from the actual pasta.

“What a coincidence,” you laughed. “I was just going to buy some spaghetti.”

“Yeah,” I mumbled. “Neat coincidence.”

You looked at me silently for a moment, your eyes anything but quiet. I waited for you to say something like “it was nice to see you” or “have a good day,” something polite and perfunctory and dismissive. I waited for you to end the conversation, because I didn’t want it to end even though it was barely anything. I waited for you to leave, because I couldn’t bear to leave you even though I wasn’t with you.

“I’ve missed you,” you whispered, like it was a secret. Something burned in my throat, in the backs of my eyes. “I’m sorry,” you said hurriedly. “I didn’t mean to – I just… I’ve missed you a lot.”

I bit the inside of my cheek. My mouth tasted stale and my throat felt like it was lined with sandpaper.

“I’m sorry,” you repeated. I didn’t think you were talking about telling me you missed me anymore. “I know you probably don’t want to hear this.”

“Are you taking care of yourself?” I asked. “You don’t look… Are you sick?”

Your smile was like a tragedy, beautiful in its sadness. “No, I’m not. I’m…in good health.”

“That’s good. Health is important.”

“Yeah, I’m trying to cook more instead of buying out so much.” A lock of your hair fell over your eyes, and I itched to push it back. But—no. It wasn’t my place to do that anymore. It wasn’t my place to be beside you anymore.

“Remember to buy milk.”

“Right.” Your voice sounded raspier than usual, like something was wearing it down. “Thank you.”

“No problem.” I glanced at your basket again, and I couldn’t help asking, “Are you…cooking for two?”

“No.” You gave a small smile. “Just for me.”

I nodded slowly.

“Are you—” you started hesitantly, like you weren’t sure if you were allowed to ask.

“No, I—” I wasn’t with anyone. I hadn’t been with anyone since you. I didn’t want anyone but you. “—I make my meals for one.”

I didn’t think I was imagining the look of relief that passed over your face. I wasn’t sure what to make of it, but my head and chest were starting war already.

“It gets lonely,” you said in a low voice, “always cooking for one.”

Your eyes were cast downward so I couldn’t see them, and maybe that was a blessing because I had no idea what mine were revealing.

“I’m sorry,” you said for the third time. “I shouldn’t be – I don’t think I have the right to…” For once, it was you who didn’t have the words.

“To what?” I asked softly, but you had frozen, your eyes on something behind me. I turned around and saw a very tall, very thin girl who looked vaguely familiar.

“Hey, Fany,” she complained. “You told me you’d get your pasta stuff and meet me in the snacks aisle. Then you just disappeared!”

“Sorry, Soo,” you apologized. Right, I remembered her name now: Choi Sooyoung, a friend of yours from church who I’d seen a few times. “I just bumped into…an old friend.” You cleared your throat. “Jessica, this is Sooyoung. Sooyoung, Jessica.”

Sooyoung’s eyes landed with interest on me. “Hi,” she said brightly. “I think I’ve seen you around but we’ve never been properly introduced.”

“Yeah.” I willed myself to smile. “Hi.”

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to break up your conversation. I’ve just been looking for this girl all over the store. I thought that she must have left this aisle already because she came here ages ago.”

“Yeah, sorry,” you said. “I got…sidetracked.”

I made sure not to look at you, because I didn’t know what my expression would give away.

“Well, you two go back to whatever you’re talking about,” Sooyoung said cheerfully. “I’ll be in the snacks aisle, Fany, don’t take too long.” She turned to me. “It was nice meeting you, Jessica!”

This time, my smile came naturally. Sooyoung was just so infectiously happy. “You too.”

She left, and then it was just you and me. You looked at me in that silent but not wordless way again, and somehow I knew that you would never finish that sentence. The moment had left us.

“It was nice to see you.” I heard the words leave my mouth like someone else was saying them.

“Yeah,” you said softly. “Definitely.”

“I hope you—” My voice gave out on me. I didn’t know how to finish that sentence anyway. I hoped for many things, and I was looking at number one on my wish-list. Looking, yearning, but not moving. “Have a good day.”

You were looking at me the way you did that day by the river. I felt the burn again, and this time it was in my chest.

“Yeah,” you repeated. “You too.”

My hand clenched around the bag of spaghetti in my hand, crinkling the plastic, probably snapping some noodles. This was the part where I was supposed to turn around and leave, but I. But you.

I thought, suddenly, of a line I had read once in a story. You and I together were greater than you, and I, apart. But maybe we weren’t destined for greatness. Maybe we were fated for this, to be a breath away from each other, an inch apart, so little but so much between us.

“Bye, Tiffany.” I should probably add something like “take care of yourself” or “see you around,” but my throat closed up after your name.

You were still looking at me like that; staring, really, the way I was when I just saw you. I tried not to look into your eyes, because I was afraid I would lose myself in them. I waited for you to say something, but for once you were silent.

After a moment that lasted either a heartbeat or a lifetime, you your lips – my eyes followed the motion – and finally spoke. “Bye, Jessi.”

This time, I was the one to turn and walk away, but I still felt like the one being left behind.

A/N: The “You and I” line is from this fic. “Looking, yearning, but not moving” is adapted from “…staring, wishing, wanting. But not moving” from Helpless.