You had me at "Hello".

Maybe you're running late. You have to pick the children up from school, attend a dentist appointment or race through traffic to get to work.

Maybe you're not feeling so great. A little ill, grumpy or worse, hungry.

Maybe you just have a thousand things on your mind, trying to formulate a way to filter through your to-do list with only a limited number of hours in your busy day.

Whatever the case, your mind is elsewhere.

Then I come along. I'm walking, probably meandering, with little to no time constraints. Nowhere to be, nothing pressing to fill my next few hours. I am content in the moment, dragging one foot forward followed by another. Perhaps admiring the shining sun, the foreboding clouds.

I am your antithesis. The calm to your storm.

I see you coming, but you don't see me. Your head is down but I can see your furrowed brow. You don't have enough hands to carry all your items and your hair is dishevelled.

Then we are close. We are in each others path and I try to position myself outside of yours but you're looking down, thinking of something else, placing yourself a couple of hours ahead. At the last moment you look up. I think my foot entered your downward vision and a quick glance up has you realising that if we keep walking we will collide. I, the stroller, you, the rushed.

At this close distance I can see that you're tired. You have light lines around your eyes and a hint more than a five o'clock shadow. Your glasses are on you head, perched at an odd angle, as if you placed them there hours ago and have long since forgotten. Your bag looks like its about to self combust and you have files jammed haphazardly into a folder they have long since outgrown.

You look at me in the eyes and I wonder what you're thinking. That I so clearly have nowhere to be and you long for that? Or that I look bored with no urgent destination? Maybe you just want to question why I'm standing right in front of you, blocking a path you so desperately need to get past.

You look at me in the eyes, and you smile. "Hello" you say, your eyes glistening with compassion, with an unspoken understanding.

Then you're walking past me, your brow furrowed once more, your files spilling out of your hands and your glasses teetering dangerously close to the edge of your head. I notice that you're wearing a suit and dress shoes. You're almost stumbling under the weight of your obstacles.

"Hello" I say, to your disappearing back. And then you're gone.