The “hng” is one of the most complicated and enigmatic expressions of today. It is a short, but powerful expression. It can convey anger, disappointment, excitement, and constipation.

The grunt: the most underrated sound in the 21st century.

It’s a strained noise – like an animal struggling to get out of a trap. Like a doe, with one foot caught in a bear trap. It’s bleeding. The leaves around it are scrambled – signs of an energetic struggle and an instinct for survival. It sees you creeping up on it. It tries to get out again. It’s kicking up dirt; the metal is clanging. Its whole body quivers, each muscle group working in tandem to spring away from the trap. It doesn’t work. But it keeps trying. It grunts.

Say – you see something beautiful. A person, let’s imagine. There’s a light fog, like something out a dream – something hazy; something mysterious. You’re looking in their eyes. You lock your gazes.

Tonight, you start to think. Tonight, you’re going to be thinking of one extra thing. This is that thing. This moment. This person. This face. Those eyes.


You get a lump in your throat. You haven’t had the butterflies in years. You start to feel it again, that elevated feeling of bliss and ascension. Your legs seemed to be drained of all their weight.

Hold on.

If only you could speak. If only you could move from that person’s petrifying gaze. All you can think of; all you can do right now is… is look away-

No. You can’t let everything become this way. You can’t let everything slip from your fingers like that. Something’s got to catch, you think to yourself.Something’s gotta shine. Something’s gotta come out.

Is this one going to be it? Unceremoniously, you just decide to – no, scratch that. Not unceremonious. It’s never unceremonious when you see a face as perfect as one like this. It’s never “regular” when you see supermodel – rather, goddess-tier perfection – in real life. It’s different when you’re this close. It’s different when you’re able to peer in through the edges of her soul, and see every microscopic feature of her eyes.

“Unprepared” is the word. Yes, you are very unprepared for this. You want to smooth out your clothes and adjust your hair, but you’re scared you’ll look too fussy in front of her. But maybe that’ll be cute. Maybe she’ll like it. You start to wonder what she likes. You wonder if you share the same tastes. You try to take a good look at her; you try to see her as the sum of the parts. Ah, but she might get creeped out and think that you’re checking her out. But maybe she’ll feel flattered?

And you’re standing there, stuck with these conflicting feelings inside of you. You want to say something. You want to try something, but you don’t want to “try.” You want to just “succeed.” You’ve already come up with the names of your children. You’ve already thought about the life you two would live.

There’s so much going on in your mind, you can’t help but sense that your throat is starting to get dry. The fabric around your neck seems to clench a little tighter today. There isn’t much you’re accomplishing by standing there silently. You’re just delaying the inevitable. You either leave, or you say something. And haven’t we already decided to say something?

“Hello.” You conjure out your inner Casanova, speaking in a bright, clear tone.

You’ve got her attention. Next step, her heart.


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