I was just a tiny pixel.
A single pixel on a screen that I had no way of knowing how big it was.
From the corner of my eye I saw other pixels come and go, flickering in different colors. But we were all just tiny pixels on a flat surface. None of us could see what shape we were making together.
But I did see the eyes.
Before me, there were two big eyes that looked at me—us.
I couldn't quite see the whole face, but I distinctly remember those eyes that looked at us with genuine curiosity.
Those eyes didn't see me at first. They were probably looking at the whole picture. They were the exact opposite of me—us. We were such tiny pixels the eyes could only see the whole picture, not us the pixels.
But those eyes—they were very attentive. They roamed around from side to side, corner to corner, as if they were looking for something.
Then our gazes met. It was as if, somehow, those eyes saw me as an individual.
I was nothing.
Nothing but a tiny pixel.
