A crack in the glass

​It was 5 PM, and the mist had fallen over Buea. I finished my work at the store, sweeping the floor and putting the items back in their places.

​Conrad was still there. He was sitting on the bench, pretending to read his book, but he couldn't help watching me. I thought it was hilarious to see a guy like him watch me struggle with the heavy bags of rice and spices. For me, it was a normal struggle, but for him, it seemed like he wanted to jump in and help every second.

​I saw his shadow moving behind me. Then his voice came, soft and steady.

​"Why don't you just ask for my help?" he said. His voice was so gentle that it made me stop.

​I didn't even think before I replied roughly. "Just because I don't need it."

​A part of me—a part I hated—was actually hoping he would get upset and sit back down, or even just leave. But he didn't. Instead, he smiled and came toward me. He took the other end of the heavy bag and helped me carry it to the back of the store.

​"You are such a pig-headed girl," he said in a playful, joking way.

​With his help, I finished closing the store much earlier than I expected. It felt strange. It felt bad and awkward, but also... different. This was the second time this guy had forced me to let my guard down. For the first time in a long time, the silence didn't feel lonely. It felt like a start

​I stood there for a moment, looking at the closed door of the shop. Conrad was standing next to me, his hands in his pockets. He didn't push me to speak. He just waited. The "weight of the favor" from earlier was still there, but now it felt like something else. It felt like a question I wasn't ready to answer.

​"Are you going to stare at the lock all night, or are we going?" he asked. His voice was back to that playful, "smooth" tone that usually made me want to roll my eyes.

​"I told you, I have a long walk home," I said, trying to find my "cold" voice again. But it was hard to stay cold when my heart was still racing from the way he helped me with the bags.

​Conrad tilted his head to the side. "It’s 5 PM, Moon. The mist is thick. I’m not letting you walk back to Mile 17 alone. Besides, you still have my umbrella."

​I looked at the yellow umbrella in my hand. I had forgotten I was still holding it. "I was going to give it back."

​"Keep it for now," he said, walking toward the street. "You can give it back after the tea. That way, I have an excuse to make sure you actually show up."

​I bit my lip. He was so confident, so sure of himself. It was a complete contrast to my world of shadows and "safe distances." I followed him, but I made sure to stay two steps behind. I wasn't ready to walk with him yet. I was only walking near him.

​As we walked, the sounds of Buea started to fade into the mist. The bike-taxis were just faint lights in the distance. The silence between us started to change again. It wasn't the "bad" kind of awkward anymore. It was the kind of silence that happens right before something big changes.

​"You're doing it again," Conrad said, looking back at me over his shoulder.

​"Doing what?"

​"Thinking too much," he said, flashing that crinkled-eye smile. "Stop overthinking it, Moon. It’s just ginger tea. I’m not asking for your life story... yet."

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