Standing Right in Front of You

Bing bong.

John stepped through the door into the cool interior of the Verizon store, clutching his dripping phone in one hand and casually smoothing his dark, soaking hair with the other. His shoes squished and squelched as he made his way to the heart of the sale floor.

The young woman at the counter glanced up at the sound of the door chimes. She smiled at him, looked back down at her computer screen—and then did a double-take. Her expression turned from practiced cheerfulness to sudden shock. But her parted lips and widened eyes did not slow him. He stepped right up to the counter, flicking droplets from his sopping sleeve, and placed the destroyed cellphone on the counter.

“You’re wet,” she said matter-of-factly.

“Yes,” he responded. “Can I get that replaced?”

“Sure. Why are you wet?” She took his phone and handed it to a staring co-worker, and then began typing into her computer.

John grinned sheepishly. “I went fishing.”

“Oh.” She swirled the mouse on its pad and clicked here and there, then asked for his information and password, which he gave her. She kept glancing at him, grinning to herself and clicking. Her light hair was caught up in a crazy mess on top of her head, with small wavy strands falling around the slim lines of her neck and collarbone. Her eyes were just barely too big, and blue, and wrinkled with amusement at his situation. There was something in the one-corner-of-the-mouth-turned-up smile she was wearing that made his stomach twinge—and not in an uncomfortable way.

John turned the slightest shade of red.

“Did you forget your fishing pole or something?” she asked while they waited for processing.

"Sorry?"

"I mean, fishing isn't normally so... immersive, unless you were trying to catch them bare-handed."

“No, I went with my cousin. He got bored and pushed me in.” He brushed a dripping lock of hair from his forehead.

“Your cousin isn't a fishing enthusiast, I take it.”

John shook his head.

“And your phone is so important that you just had to get it replaced right this instant.” She adopted a very mockingly concerned expression. “Most people would dry off first, you know.”

“I’m expecting a call.”

“A very important call, then?”

“You could say that.”

“Hot date?”

John’s previous blush of embarrassment deepened. “I guess you could say that, too. I’ve only met her once.”

Something in her expression was slightly strained when she asked, “Oh? Where?”

“Last night... at a party.”

“Let me guess. You flirted, she giggled, you gave her your number, she said she would call you tomorrow, and you’ve been holding on to that cellphone like it’s your last breath of air ever since.” Her eyebrows shot up inquisitively.

“How’d you guess?”

“You’re practically dripping with desperation,” she answered, winking.

The corner of his mouth lifted with an uncomfortable smile. “It’s pretty stupid, isn’t it?”

Her co-worker returned with the box that contained his new phone. She cupped it in her hands and stared at it for a few seconds, seriously considering his words.

"I think there are two different kinds of moments in life," she finally replied. "There are almost-moments—the moments we experience every day that have the potential to be more, but we let them pass without acting on them and eventually forget they ever happened. And then there are life-changing moments, which... well, that's self-explanatory."

When she handed the box over to him she added, “Who knows, maybe she’ll call." She had him sign the receipt and said, "You're all set, John. Better luck in all of your future fishing endeavors."

John thanked her and walked to the door, turning back once to see her watching him go with a tired gaze. She perked up instantly, beaming and waving in a way that must have come with the job description.

John returned her smile uncertainly, clutching his new phone. And then he made a shoe-squelching exit, the door chimes echoing after him with the woeful resonance of an almost-moment.