Chance Encounters

shiv

I stood in a chink of sunshine in front of the bookshop, waiting for it to open.
My hair was still half-wet and tangled. The morning held the pure, giddy promise of spring, and nothing of the night’s gloomy indecision or excavation. My lungs breathed the air in greedily, as if in hibernation for the past six months in my chest.

Suddenly an old gent cut a shadow across me. He slowed down and I could see his lips moving in my direction. I took out my ill-fitting earphones and focused on his voice, the slant of his cap. “Good morning.” The look in the eyes: old-world manners, simple politeness and a dash of charm. Irresistible.

My own voice was rusty in return when I gave back the greeting, but he waited for it, and took it with a smile. He walked on and I crossed the street after making my purchase, moving towards the coffee shop. My receipt practically flew out of my pocket at one point and I rushed forward to reclaim it, a traffic-stopper in my own awkward way.

The colourless croissant wasn’t overly appealing, but it was something. I figured I’d get half-way through it at least. It was more the hot steamed milk I was after. The cream. Hmmm. The tiny decadence of a late-ish start on a Friday.

The platform was deserted except for a few vulture-birds. I sat on the bench after searching out another patch of light. I took out a copy of one of my favourite books, found as a left-over to cleaning. I read a chapter and sensed someone take up space beside me. I instinctively looked a little harder at the page.

“Got your coffee?” His nails were painted dark pink, attached to grubby hands and arms that held multiple women’s bracelets. His clothes appeared normal, which slightly stunned me, even though he was massively unkept. I answered in the affirmative, as if there was a need, and wondered if a further exchange would be required. It wasn’t, so I brought my attention back to the prototype of the perfect troubled young man.