One Hundred and Ninety Seven

I had a dream about you the other day.

I think I just
want you to feel that moment
so much.

I'd somehow travelled back in time to our first year right before February, maybe in early January. I'd gone into your building to visit a friend, a new friend, a friend I'd created in my mind, who lived on the ninth floor, and you on the twelfth.
It doesn't make sense, thinking back, I have no idea where you lived in first year, which floor, and certainly not twelve. But nonetheless we met on the elevator.
You'd gotten on right after me and we stood beside one another, and as the almost broken shaft slowly crossed the first floor I turned to you, observed the length of your hair, so different, but your profile still the same, the soft strings of your hair right behind your ears still the same, your ears still the same, your eyes always. You were looking away, at the slowly illuminating floor numbers, before noticing my gaze and slowly turning to me, wary.
"I'm sorry," I said, not looking away, "It's just that..."
You grew worried immediately, as though your fingers were ready to fly to a button to emergency stop this conversation, kick me out and be well on your way.
"You're beautiful," I finished, and I watched as your face turned from confusion to disbelief, but as you looked back into my eyes, still, always focused on you, you grew uncomfortable, to curious. "Hasn't anyone told you that today yet?" I asked.
And you shook your head.
"I'm sorry," I said again, and extended my hand to you, "Have we met?"
"I don't think so," you replied slowly, even slower at taking my hand and shaking it, and I heard a little intake of breath as our hands closed around one another, and I smiled to myself as I watched your eyes dance over me, your head running a thousand miles a minute. You wanted me to kiss you, but you didn't understand why. You'd kiss me back, but you didn't understand why. Yes you did. No you didn't. Yes you did.
We arrived at my floor and I released your hand, so warm, and murmured, "This is my floor."
You were silent, and only watched me go.
As the doors shut and I heard the elevator continue climbing up to yours, I smiled to myself again and travelled forward, back to the present, where I try my best to make certain someone tells you you're quite lovely, every day.