Blinded

His cold, pale eyes look at me like I’m an insect. I’m of no importance to him; just another stupid little person in a stupid little world.

But he’s brilliant. He’s a genius. He knows everything about me without needing me to speak a word. He’s clever. And brave. And sometimes he can be so funny. He’s got a smile like winter sunshine, surprisingly warm and bright, and as rare as a blue moon. When he smiles, everything shines.

Yet he looks right through me. He has no idea how much I want him to notice me. If he speaks to me, I walk on air for the rest of the day. If he ever smiled at me... I wish he would smile at me, even just once. His eyes crinkle up and his whole face brightens. But I’ve only seen him smile once in all the time I’ve known him. And never, ever at me.

And why would he? I’m nothing to him. Just a slightly dim, plain, shy little girl, no more an object of affection than one of the microscopes or the coffee machine. Probably even less.

Some people call him cold. They call him a freak. They hate him because he knows everything about them, all their dirty little secrets, and they feel so exposed.

And he can be cold. But he’s my world. He’s a warrior angel, sent to earth; a bit tarnished by his journey, but still wonderful. He’s a god, a master, a philosopher, a crusader, a great man. Not necessarily safe or good. But wonderful and brilliant and shining with a light so bright it blinds and dazzles lesser mortals.

It blinded me. I’ve fallen under his spell.

There are others like me. I know. I’ve caught glances at him, a look in people’s eyes, a hint of expression. I can recognize them now. Sometimes they recognize me and we’ll share a glance for a moment and then move on, probably never to see each other again.

Yes, there are others. People he’s come across or who have come across him. Who looked at him and, in an instant, were dazzled and blinded. People who saw greatness and fell to their knees.

And he turns up his coat collar, adjusts his scarf, and swaggers off in his long black coat, completely oblivious to the trail of dazzled mortals he leaves in his wake, and continues on into the darkness.