My heart is beating so hard I think I might get a rib fracture. I shake my fringe down in front of my eyes and somewhere behind it I'm looking for courage to look at you. If I peek under it so that your face is streaked through the strands of hair, it's almost possible.

At a parking lot outside a cement building we call "school" you just said hello, wondered if I had a lighter. I have given you a quick smile, a nod, said 'absolutely', looked through my pockets, found a white one from pressbyrån, handed it over (careful not to touch you because what if you noticed), and now you're standing here in front of me lighting your cigarette, will soon give my lighter back, say "thank you" and leave, and I won't have said anything, will take the lighter, take a drag from my cigarette, follow you with my eyes as you walk away and curse myself for not saying anything, kick a small stone, walk the other way with my hands in my pockets, just like a thousand times before.

But right now, this very moment, you're standing in front of me lighting a cigarette, and if I shake my fringe down in front of my eyes I almost dare to look at you.