Staring at... Not-strangers?

If you sit really very still, the world seems to revolve around you.

Which, I mean, it technically does. Not that it makes you any more notable because the world revolves around everything and anything and also around nothing at all.

Hey, what do you and your toothbrush have in common? You're both insignificant objects that the world does and does not revolve around. Hur-hur.

But sometimes these somewhat dejecting thoughts render themselves a comforting kind of ambiguity and it's nice to give some credit to what we perceive as ordinary.

We're sat across from each other.


He has his pointed nose buried in a book but I can tell he isn't taking any of it in. His eyes aren't gliding along the page, but are instead fixated on one spot- one word perhaps. I wonder what that word is. I wonder whether it's the word that's sent his mind to wherever it is right now.

He brings one hand up to his ear and begins to play with a barely-existent side-burn until, I assume, his hand gets tired and it limps back down.

Time ticks on, the seconds flowing rather than inching along. I bask in the comfort of the fulfilling silence. It's fulfilling because it's not empty. His presence asserts itself in the air.

He sighs and puts the book down, stretches wide and then rubs his palms against his eyes. He then rests his elbows on the table and his face slowly re-emerges from behind his hands. He looks straight ahead; still lost in his head.

"What are you thinking about?" he says so suddenly I almost jump.

"What? Oh..." I start, dazed. I'd forgotten I was even here. And he's returned as if he was never even gone. We're both here now...I think.

"Well, I was wondering what you were thinking about."