A burst of wind as I open the door. My shopping bag clasped firmly in my hand. I laugh with my mother and sister about the strange salesmen, the new shoes I have just purchased; mundane things to laugh about in our mundane life. A perfectly boring day on a faceless street on a pointless trip to New York City.
And there it is. A flash of blonde hair. A traitorous smile that I would recognize anywhere.
“Mom,” I breathe, my eyes following the figure far past the point of embarrassment. “It’s him.”
We cross the street, craning our necks to watch as he so gracefully glides through the crowds as though he has a place here.
As though he hasn’t betrayed the entire human race.
My hands are shaking. I know what I must do. I have a responsibility to my people, the others he has betrayed. The others he has hurt.
Does he know what he has done? Does he know the turmoil he has thrown us into?
I must smite him. For my people.
Alas, in my fury, I have lost sight of him. He is gone.
We cross the street once more so we can check for that dastardly glimmer of an experimentalist’s ponytail. My hope is slowly fading, and my mother keeps asking who, what, where are we going, why are we following a dying Disney Channel star?
I ignore her, too blinded by my dying goal to listen to her constant pleas. My hope is lost, my feet are aching, and I realize that my life is going nowhere if I am spending my time following people through the streets.
And then, in the doorway of a Japanese hotdog restaurant, we spot him.
I approach him slowly, as one might approach a hungry crocodile or shark.
“Hey,” I say lamely. Damn.
“What?” he replies as unfeelingly as a dictator addressing his subjects.
“Are you…?” I cannot bring myself to say his name.
“Yeah,” he responds, voice dripping with casual regret. Ah. So he knows that the world sees him only as what he has done. Good.
All duty to my people lost, I ask him the first thing that comes to my mind.
“Can I get a picture?”
He nods and laughs, and I fumble with my phone, my hair falling into my eyes as I snap a photograph and pull away.
“Thanks,” he says, walking away, and then he is gone, lost in the haze of a Japanese hotdog restaurant.
I am vaguely aware that there was something I was supposed to say, supposed to do. I don’t realize my mistake until I return to my impatient mother and sister.
I forgot to remind him of his sins. I forgot to tell him about the chaos he caused, of the Dark Ages he threw us into that only John Green could save us from.
So, it is with a heavy heart that I post this, fellow tumblr friends. I have failed you all. I hope that you can forgive me, and know that to me, you are not a sociology experiment. You are so much more than that.
Thank you, and goodnight.