Metamorphosis One

There was a time today, approximately 3:06. I was driving on Ventura Blvd, all four windows down, Fleetwood Mac on the stereo. At the red light I thought of: Rachel Getting Married, my little brother, 86 vs 5 degree weather, how I can't roll a cigarette for shit, and Summer Heights High. Yes.

There was a man, at least thirty. He was driving a black Volvo, all four windows down, Philip Glass on the stereo. I felt him look over at me. I responded by turning my head in his direction, giving him some attention. He spoke. Told me he had seen me at the pharmacy and had decided to "follow." Asked me my name. "Shirin" I said, my eyes crinkling with confusion. He was handsome, hell, I wanted him to remember me. "Shirin" he repeated.

And then, this: mamihlapinatapei. A word in Yagán, a language of Tierra del Fuego; describes "a meaningful look shared by two people expressing mutual unstated feelings." Green light. My nerves got the best of me as I pulled my windows up and sped towards the 101, aware that I would lose Mr. Philip Glass. The one in the Volvo.