He smiles to himself for a fleeting moment, his chin resting
on his fist and eyes wandering. I wonder what he’s just thought about. Then
he’s distracted by his phone vibrating on the table top and goes to pick it up.
I wait for him to check it and return to his original trance-like state, but
instead he moves on and rests his gaze on the notes spread in front of him.
This annoys me. Severely.
The only reason I’ve even acknowledged this man’s existence
is because of his seeming obliviousness to his surroundings. I don’t know his
name or what his voice sounds like but I’d established him to be a well meaning
person until he took away the very thing that had drawn me in.
I’m irrationally angry at a man who, to me, has only ever
just existed.
It had been a perfect few seconds that the busy world missed
and it’s never going to be repeated.
I want to pout and kick my feet, like a child not getting
what it wants. And that would be as effective as anything else because I know I
can’t get people to forge moments. It’s just that when they happen you barely
have time to absorb them and you wish they’d lasted a little longer.
He’d been so happily
unaware of his own projecting happiness.
Now he’s got his eyes fixated on a notepad. I try to crane
my neck to see whether he’s reading or staring at blank paper, but it’s too far
away to tell.
He’s still detached from the world. Just never looks around
him, does he? He’s stiller than the individual seconds of time that pass around
him in the form of chatter, footsteps and the diffusion of coffee shop scents.
Is this guy putting on a show? I fully expect him to flinch
and break character any minute now, scream “Gotcha!” then sprout wings, pull
out a sword and fly away.
But all he does is just sit there. And stare blankly at his
work.
Suddenly, I feel a vibration in my pocket and realize I’ve
been stupidly smiling to myself, my chin resting on my fist. I smile for
another fleeting moment, but then I go to check my phone.
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