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"Asymptotes," our lecturer said with fervor, "are lines that can get closer and closer to a given curve but never really touches it."
It was the first day of review in this year; we were talking about parabolas, hyperbolas and ellipses. Yes, geometry. You get the picture.
I was listening eagerly to him until after he said the meaning of asymptotes.
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I see him almost every weekday. I walk in front of him most of times or vice versa.
What caught me (besides bleeding pheromones) is the air of mystery around him. Sure, every stranger might seem mysterious or odd or whatever you put them. But this one, I'd rather call the one with sexy air of mystery. I'm not talking about the carnal meaning you might be thinking but there's just something in him that made me so curious.
I could come to know all his habits and vices, his group of friends, the style of his writing, his favorite shirt and shoes, his scent, his voice, his name. And he will still remain a stranger. Or maybe not, whatever might happen.
How could you know so many things about a person and not now a lot of things about him at the same time?
Day by day, I am weaving this string of attachment with him without being aware of it. Like a spider making a web; even though I know it won't be sturdy enough to stay for so long.
What makes a person stand out from all the others you meet by chance?
He just happened to pass by and then he caught your fancy. Isn't it nice? Other people touching your lives without them meaning to or without them knowing. It's almost surreal.
Surely, he's just one of the many strangers that will come to pass; whose face I might come to know too well. And that will be just it.
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That day he sat next to me. It was the first time I ever felt how a few inches can be so far. It felt like it.
Then I heard the story of asymptotes and it hit me right between my eyes.
Two people can get closer and closer but never really touch each other. Like ever.
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