Writing a Sentence

“Every time that I reached for my pockets, his pupils followed my hand like its seeing if their teacher will pull out the graded test or just another homework assignment.”

This is what I wrote today on the subway. I bring my notebook everywhere I go to write down ideas or small pieces of writing that I would suddenly feel inspired to jot down. Often times, I would write single sentences that I hope would one day present itself as the solution to my inevitable writer’s block(s). When I was in Brooklyn today, I was talking to this pedestrian for a quick minute when I reached for my phone in my pocket. As I was extending my hand to my thigh, I was still looking at him straight in the eye, causing me to observe that he was tracing the movements of my hand religiously. Not knowing anything about this person at all, I fantastically theorized that it was a habit of safety, making sure this stranger is not going to suddenly pull out a weapon. That small observation suddenly sparked me and was forcing me to put it into words. Right after I got on the Q-express to get back to Manhattan, I opened my notebook and wrote the first word. I first wrote ‘every time that I reached for my pockets, his pupils,’ then was forced to think what is to come next. This process of thinking meticulously of what specific word or phrasing to use is such an exhilarating and fun process of writing. You are combing through your word bank trying to pinpoint the exact words that would encapsulate the feeling you felt at that moment of inspiration. Suddenly, that last word in the sentence I wrote gave me the euphoric feeling that I always chase when writing. I first wrote pupil without thinking much because I did not want to use ‘eye’, being the basic word that it is. However, as I was slowly pondering over what I have written, I realized the other meaning of ‘pupil’—student— gifted me with the perfect simile. Immediately, I knew how to finish this sentence. The anxiety and anticipation I use to have as a middle schooler seeing my teacher pull out a big bundle of paper at the end of class was what I was using as reference. It could either be another random homework assignment or reading, or it could be the test we took last week, all graded ready to hand me despair or joy. That momentary unknown and anticipation was what I imagined paralleled in that person’s mind. Though it is highly likely that the pedestrian wasn’t expecting a scrawny asian college student to pull out a gun or knife on him in broad daylight, I’m allowed to let my imagination wonder in the name of writing. That sentence was fun to write.