He moves his arm in an upward motion, like a movie scene karate chop in reverse. A faint hint of bubble gum comes off his cuff and embraces my senses and I am immediately drawn to this stranger. He isn't shaking my hand but I feel like I want to reach out and try, just in case he might want too. He is speaking very quickly and quietly to my colleague, I am trying to read his lips but I don't know how to read lips. Before I know it, their conversation is over, queue the reverse karate chop and whiff of bubble gum. He turns to go. I plead with everything inside me that he will look at me and like to chunks of Lego our eyes lock.
Overtime the Lego pieces add up and continue to build this structure. Each date almost creates a snapping sound of colourful plastic chunks interlocking; a dinner and a movie, a walk in the park, an exhibit at the gallery... snap, snap, snap. It isn't solid, but the weight of my words can't seem to knock away any of the pieces. The structure looses it's bubble gum scent quicker than expected. The Lego becomes dull and eventually I am searching for one of those window inserts so I can see beyond the structure and maybe even see myself, through Lego eyes, in the tiny plastic reflection.