Introvert

It was a moment.

I had 20-20 vision, for the first time. I could see detail in everything, the colour, the outlines, the minute cracks in the wall where the paint had dried, and the pores on their faces, as they laughed and gesticulated and flirted gently with each other. My breathing was strong and healthy, and I felt like a god.

I could do anything.

This is what it's like to feel confident - I told myself. Take advantage of the moment. Grab the conversation and make it something they will remember, make it anecdotal, make it so good they'll claim it as their own in other, future, great, conversations. The people across from you, the table by the side, listening, but not appearing to - for fear of being rude - the whole room even, waiting for your time in the spotlight.

They're all wondering, I told myself, who is this man? This man with the perfect smile, his cropped hair, his style and grace, and wonderful presence. How can I get nearer? So I can benefit from the glow. How can I get closer? So I can listen to his wisdom.

The words were there, they danced in my brain, they swirled and coalesced into sentences. Such lucidity and joy, to make their eyes open wide, and their hairs stand on end. The break was there, the room was quiet, and expectant, and ready for my voice.

My head turned.

I scanned the room.

I opened my mouth ...

And I closed it again.