Checkmate

She was on her phone booking a ride home for a friend while walking onto the other side of an empty street, careful not to get hit by randomly occuring vehicles. Funny how she's being careful with being careless, but it's not always the case. She's one to make sure all sides are clear before crossing.

One can tell it's probably the happy hormones making her think that for that night she can get away unscathed from that peaceful side of a rather nosiy night life hotspot.

Head still bent down, she reached the sidewalk. She just came straight out from KTV and intended to go back once she sends off her friend. It was an enjoyable night but she didn't expect to do a complete performance number.

It occured to her though she was caught up in an awkward dance as she paced to the right to avoid a towering stranger, then paced again to the left to avoid the same stranger.

"Damn, how awkward. Lucky to have my eyes glued on the phone," she thought and made another lunge to the right, sure of the stranger's let-up. Afterall, chachas like that are supposed to stop at the third prompting.

Checkmate.

The stranger read her mind and opted to play.

"Hell, are you doing this on purpose?" she muttered silently, all the while mustering every poker reaction her insticts could allow to keep her eyes on the phone and avoid a possible interaction. Her curiosity of the person seemingly trying to capture her attention never triumphed over her willful lack of self-confidence that might plunge the whole scenario downhill.

So, she slid to the left with feigned nonchalance tinted with persistence that says, "I'm not interested."

But she is. It's just that her game is avoidance - to conceal, burry, hide. She's programmed that way and it kept her safe at the expense of things worth experiencing.

But that night, coincidence or fate, whatever it was, had some tricks up its sleeve.

A surprised gasp turned the tides. She froze.

Checkmate.

What's burried may rise to face you someday.

"Oh my gosh Cris!!! Hi, it's been a long time," her friend tailing her called out quite excitedly.

That name.

It rang with nostalgia, with distant feelings burried in the deepest recesses of her subconscious. That name flashed a light upon a dark dusty attic ready to be emptied out of worn-out memories.

There was no flood of emotions, only a skipped heartbeat.

She looked up.

A calm smile is all she could figure on that face made partially recognizable by a faint light of a street lamp in that dark empty street.