A quote from the history of love.


I guess sometimes it's never too good to wonder.
Because wondering too much might bring you to places you don't want to go.

coffee with a stranger


I think it would be nice
to sit at the table by the window
and watch the people go by.
Then soak into the story in my hand
which paints a picture in my mind.
I'll have a coffee on the table
and it's not the regular black kind.

Then a stranger comes up,
and says: "Hey, can I join you?"
And he gestures to the empty seat facing me.
And I give him a benign smile and nod my head-
a simple, nonverbal answer.

So the stranger sits down and he opens his book and reads.
And I read too and not a word passes between us.
Externally, we may be two people sitting by the table
and people may wonder:
"How strange, did they fight?"
But no, in fact, we are more than happy.
Happy in our own little world of imagination
that the beloved author has created for us.

And so I reach Chapter V, where the girl meets the boy
and oh how lovely and unrealistic it is
that everything in the book just seems so easy for her.
To find her love, I mean.
I look up from my book in disgust,
and instead watch my stranger with keen curiosity.
I watch his eyes scan across the lines,
blinking only when necessarily.
His lips twitch occasionally,
and I realize he is reading a book with a sinister cover.
How interesting that my stranger
finds something so dark so humorous.

The more I watch my stranger, the more I take interest in the little things about him.
Amazingly enough, he is somehow oblivious to my stare,
and instead remains absorbed in his book.
Such an peculiar man, I think to myself.
But then I am forced to admit I enjoy the presence of strange people.

Finally, my stranger looks up
and he notices my rudeness and cracks a smile.
And he says: "I've got to go but it was nice meeting you."
And I nod like the silly school girl I am without uttering a single word.
And he says: "You don't talk much do you? Well I hope to see you again."
He leaves just like that and I watch him through the window.

And I sigh and a deep regret fills me,
and I wish and wish that I had said something.
Anything, anything! to start a conversation with my stranger.
And I notice a small scrap of paper on the table,
and on it were a line of numbers.