The Tall Man in the Church

I don’t remember when my family and I started attending the mass every

Sunday, without a miss. So, that Sundays’, I always got the chance to see him

and able to stare at him. Well, his back physic, particularly. He’s a tall brown

man with disheveled natural curly hair. With a complexion of mocha and he has

those set of eyes suave and communing like, whenever you look at it.

Flaunting glances toward him makes me curve a smile slightly constrained.

I don’t know why I feel chuckling with his moves, unexpected feeling building

inside me, don’t whether that’s wanted or unwanted. But whatever it may be,

the curve it can bring and the glitch in my stomach makes me blush.

He’s three rows away from where me and my family used to seat and he is

occasionally with his mother, yet most of the time he’s only by himself, on his

usual seat. I guiltily admitting he is cute, no, gorgeous. A gorgeous man,

certainly whether you disagree or agree, it’s up to you to tail.

But, I have this gut of feeling that he is somehow gay. Because the way he

presses his lips and skip a move. His kind of gestures sometimes confuse me of

his preference. Although, that is not the basis and judging him by those simple

ways won’t gratify what he is. I am at fault for judging him without knowing. A

kind of attitude that’s not good at all. Nevertheless, he always caught my

attention. I end up staring at him, feel like drooling or something dreaming.

Blush.
 You know the sad part of this prose? I. Don’t. Know. His. Name. Yes,

how unlucky I am. I don’t know him. A stranger clouding my mind every Sunday

mass. How do I end up getting attached with just a meter away from him, it is a

strange thing to grow and soon I should act on it?

If you’re saying why not approach him? Well, I don’t have the spirit to do

so. I’m a low profile esteemed woman at my age. And, I find it embarrassing to

ask or talk to him for real. I always dig in my head that it’s a no, no. Funny as it
is, I am contended with just gazing his back, memorizing his physic.

In that place, where holiness and faith being wield, I’m at least blessed to

see him every Sundays. Because he is the tall man in the church I always admire

the looks, and feel flushed to be known the thing called crush.