An Insignificant Moment.

"I don't care how, just as long as we speak" she said, smiling. "Aw, that's so sweet" I replied, but noticed a slight, sad, tint in her eyes that told me that it wasn't ok. It wasn't sweet. It wasn't good. It . . . it just was. It was part desperate and part longing, with a bit of melancholy in there for good measure. She tried to mask it slightly but failed.
She wanted to look confident, as if she didn't care and I was merely a small part of her oh-so-important life. But the truth was that I were, she needed me in some sense of the word, wanted me in some other. And all together she knew, deep down, that it couldn't be and it shouldn't be, and wouldn't be.
But no matter what I did in or after this small insignificant moment, I could do nothing to cheer her up, I could not ask her what was wrong, even though I already knew. I couldn't comfort her, it wouldn't seem right. I could not do anything. I just had to respect the facts, and go on with polite conversation. And so I did.