As she walked into the room her eyes avoided his as best they could, but they failed. They always failed. But this time he was waiting for her to look, waiting for her to catch his glance; and when she did everything else slowly faded away. She dared a smile, feeling braver than ever, and she could have sworn he was about to smile back. She could have sworn he was about to look at her the way he used to. It was almost perfect, and then he looked passed her towards another who had just walked in, and the almost-smile was replaced with an actual smile. She almost got that smile. She almost got her hope back. And even though she knew that he hadn’t deliberately ignored her, and that he was merely responding to an old friend who happened to stumble in behind her at the worst possible moment, she couldn’t help but be sick of all the almosts that existed between them.
— 9:16 p.m.