Your eyes smile at me. Do you want to play? Alright then, I send a glance back. You smile harder. And I smile back at you. You turn to your fingernails. No doubt, your hands are worth a look. Long and slender are your hands. But I pretend not to notice. You look up then, again smiling. Do you count to three? I beam it back to you. Do you appreciate or is it just a game? I finger with my hair. You look straight ahead. Later you lean forward, saying something in my ear. I can’t barely hear you and slightly turn around. Does this goes too far? I am leaning back and for a quite while forget that you are there. Do you mind at all? You search for my eyes and my eyes find your eyes, you can be quite funny and I have to laugh, even if I don’t want to laugh at all. Your smile now: whimsically. And yes, you know how to smile. and I know rather not. Because you can then stand up and demonstratively talk with everyone but with me, and no, if you think I live on a sentence alone, you are wrong. Sometimes I then look over my shoulder, if I find you in the wrinkle of my eyes. Most often I fail. Do you look back at all? You play hard and I lost too often, lost too hard, lost myself too often in a gentle smile and find myself with the back at the door. I don’t know what you play for. And when you then, start again to send me a smile, I just leave. Don’t you know you might find a better place to play? You are still smiling and I look rather dryly, and no I don’t look back to you. What are you looking for?