She was sitting at the corner of the café, reading a novel.
He sat at his usual table, placed his notebook down and ordered a latte from a passing waiter. The chair he sat in gave a perfect view of her, even covering the route she’d take when walking to the café door. The notebook was just pretense. He pretended to study it while stealing glances at her. The waiter returned and placed the cup in front of him. He smiled thanks and continued his routine.
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He had been scouting her for some time. He liked to think of it as scouting, not stalking. It was a rainy evening a fortnight ago when he walked into this café and found her tucked comfortably in his usual spot the nice table at the corner of the café. It was a good perch, as it had a full view of the room and was furthest from the annoyingly bright hanging lamps favoured by the establishment.
Her jacket was a bright blue, which clashed magnificently with the red painted walls of the café. The sight irritated him. She was reading the same blasted novel authored by an Ernest Hemingway, whoever that was. He was just about to stride over and give her a telling off, when she lifted up her head and their eyes met for a second. Inside of him, an ancient spark, a distant memory reignited. He hesitated, changed course and sat down at the same very table he is in today.
He felt no emotional connection, just a constant nagging feeling that they met before. In a dream, a crowded bus, over the poker table at Johnson’s bar maybe? The question had gnawed his mind over the weeks, choosing to reside in his subconscious and jumping him when he least expected it. He had had enough. Today he was going to discover the truth. He gulped down his coffee, got up and walked over.
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She put her book down and smiled at him. “Hello Horus. You finally found the courage to talk to me”, her eyes studying him as he sat down. By mentioning his name, she has brought the game against him. Clearly the events put him at a disadvantage, a position he disliked being in.
“How do you know my name?” he asked.
“Mine is a sharp memory, Horus.”
“Are we acquainted … Miss?” She nodded slowly at him. “Your name, Miss ?” he questioned, when she didn’t venture her name forward.
“Anne Marie. You really don’t remember…” her eyes showed a lack of surprise.
“I know as many Anne’s as Marie’s in my life, Miss. I need something better to go on. Perhaps name an acquaintance of ours?” He sensed a bad feeling growing inside, but he wanted the truth to silence his bothered mind.
She thought quietly for awhile. The bell in the front door chimed as another patron walked in. Finally she answered “It was a cool spring day, and we were both young and not yet bothered by the world. Ours was a short meeting, but you fell for me. You presented your feelings, yet I was not ready.” She paused. “ I pushed you into the pond and ran away.”
Horus sat back. The memory he had tried hard to keep buried had came back to him. A fool he was, he had unwittingly unearthed the memory of his first love, and subsequent first rejection. “Thank you, Anne Marie. You have settled my mind’s troubles. Live well.” He got up to leave.
Although his mind was now free of bondage, yet a distressing feeling still held firm inside. He searched his feelings, and smiled when he finally realized what it was.
He walked over to the counter and asked for a full bowl of water. He then made his way back to Anne Marie.
awaitingvalidation 