The room is crowded.
I am surprised to see you and try to catch your eye, but you don't see me.
Making my way over through the throb of people I see you leaving via the back door, you don't hear me call your name. You're skipping down a staircase, beginning to run now, down the metal stairs. I call your name again but you don't hear because the sound of your wooden shoes on the metal is clanging and clonking and echoing as you urgently, now frantically run down another staricase then another and another. I'm waving my arms and my voice is hoarse from calling, I'm flying down the stairs trying to reach you. But you are running too fast. Out of breath I pause to think. What am I doing? You're in the distance now, the sound of your wooden shoes on the metal floor barely audible, you are a dot on the horizon. You disappear.
I only wanted to say 'hi there'.