Passing

They didn’t look up. Neither of them. Two lives, two directions.

There was a few feet of pavement between them, but no recognition.

No eye contact.
No shift in pace.
No trace left behind.

I wonder how many moments like this happen every day.
How many almosts.
How many stories never touch.
How often we come so close to seeing each other.

But in this frame there is only distance.
A quiet refusal to collide.
And something in that silence stays with me longer than any conversation ever could.

We were there.
All three of us.
And none of us ever met.

-RK-