An Open Letter To The Person I Thought Was Waving At Me, But Was Actually Waving At The Person Behind Me
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An Open Letter To The Person I Thought Was Waving At Me, But Was Actually Waving At The Person Behind Me

Next time, be clear about who you are waving at.

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An Open Letter To The Person I Thought Was Waving At Me, But Was Actually Waving At The Person Behind Me
thelmamag

Dear Person-I-Thought-Was-Waving-At-Me,

It was outside of the library on an icy, winter day. I was walking to class, admiring the snow-covered trees, when I saw you. I didn't know you personally, but we had some mutual friends, so when your gloved hand lifted and shimmied from side to side like that overzealous girl at college dances, I wrongly-assumed it was being waved at me. Oh, how could I have been so foolish?

Before I had time to consider the possibility that you were not, in fact, directing that enthusiastic wave at me, I waved back. That’s not the worst of it, though, because I didn’t just merely wave, I smiled, too. An unflattering, borderline-creepy smile stretched across my face. It was a smile that could only be compared to this dog.

After a moment, I saw your eyes were not latched on me in my oversized winter jacket and unfashionable snow boots. They were focused on something past me, which could only mean one thing, the impossibly dreadful thing that I wouldn’t wish upon my greatest enemies: You were waving at the person behind me.

My eyes widened and panic seized me as a jumble of thoughts flooded my mind. Where do I look now? What do I do? Did he see me waving? Can I take it back? Of course, you can't take it back, you idiot.

But I tried to be cool. Oh, how I tried. I reached to sweep my hand through my hair but realized it was in a ponytail, so I ended up sort of awkwardly petting my head, and then I shoved my hand back in my pocket. I was careful to avert eye contact as I shuffled by, choosing the clouds as my new object to scrutinize. I was mistaken to do so because the clouds didn’t warn me of the patch of ice on the sidewalk. I tripped, flailed, whacked another passerby with my backpack, and regained my footing. You noticed me then. You heard me laugh my clumsiness off with a few abrupt snorts. You saw me dart away with my face an indescribably bright shade of red.

So why write you this letter? Why document my mortification for the world to read?

It’s simple. It’s to teach you a lesson: Next time you decide to wave at someone, make it clear who you are waving at.

Sincerely, The-Person-You-Weren’t-Waving-At
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This article has not been reviewed by Odyssey HQ and solely reflects the ideas and opinions of the creator.
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