I noticed you looking at me for a few seconds longer than a random glance warranted.
I found myself looking back for a few seconds longer than a return glance warranted.

He looks familiar.

You were on my radar from that point on. I was always aware of where you were, else I was trying to discreetly take in the sights while scanning for you. I would catch you looking in my direction a few times more, but never with the same kind of lingering glance as that first one I caught, but I would catch myself looking for you more times than I care to admit.

A few times, I managed to stand next to you while we read exhibit placards. I would look shyly at you, but you didn’t seem to notice. I would tell myself that you would look over at me when I wasn’t watching, but…

… most of me is sure that I created something between us and fixated on this imagined bond. That, if anything, you probably feared this girl who you’d always catch looking your way, standing near you in the crowd, failing to hide a smile.

But you looked so familiar to me.

I was mustering the courage all day to try to ask you why. “Hey, I’m so sorry, but you look really familiar, do I know you from somewhere?” Just as I was about to gather up enough gall to approach you, I was called away.
I caught you looking around for someone then.

Why did you look so familiar to me? Maybe I did know you from somewhere. Maybe it’s because you looked a bit like a friend of my brother’s or something. Maybe you just have one of those faces. Maybe I didn’t know you at all.

If I was more romantically available, or more romantic at all, maybe you were a figure from a not-too-distant future. Maybe your face is one that would become so familiar to me in the future that this familiarity permeated time and space into today.

Or maybe you were thinking these things about the guy standing behind me.