When your lower lip was quivering.
No, don't. I didn't know how to say it over the phone. But now you're here, sitting in front of me, looking into your coffee mug, and wiping your tears, pretending as if dust has fallen into your eyes. I get the feeling that I have to say it now or I will never get a chance. You see, you called me up this afternoon and asked me if we could meet. We don't know each other that well and frankly, I was surprised to hear from you. I wanted to excuse myself but your voice sounded distraught and I heard myself agreeing.
I look at you, sitting across from me and I don't like the way things are looking. I get the feeling that you're just about confide in me. No, please don't. Your lower lip is quivering. I know you're just going over the words in your mind. Rehearsing your secret. Soon, you will blurt it out. Something from a dark past. May be something sexual. Perhaps something that happened to you as a kid. I can feel it. You're just about to burden me with your secret. Something I can then never get rid of. I will immediately become a member of your close circle. And you will expect me to tell you all that is troubling my heart. All my embarrassing illnesses.
What I'm about to say may shock you, you begin. Oh dear. Thankfully, my phone goes off. It's my office. They want me back urgently regarding a report that is due on Friday. I get up, my coffee barely sipped. I have to go, I tell you. Disappointment spills out of your eyes. I grab your hands and promise to call later. As I walk away, I look back at you. I'm sorry, I say. Even if you can't hear it.