Our eyes never meet when you look at me. Neither here nor there, like the discarded toy of a child that lies idly on the floor where it was unceremoniously thrown by its owner. No. Not quite. A discarded toy knows its value has been lost once it has been thrown in the trash. A forgotten toy lies in limbo, not knowing when it’ll be be played with or thrown in trash. But even those considerations imparts too much importance onto it. The child doesn’t realize it’s there and the only touch the toy receives are the giant footsteps of the child. So here I look at you, through you, look up to you, like a stalker who’s victim doesn’t know he exists. Your gaze is just a scrape, just a mere touch to remind me that you’re present but my existence is incidental. But even as you look past me, your gaze still carries the weight of those giant footsteps.