This year in a few months, I will be 24. They say I’m becoming a man. I say I’m becoming myself and nobody else. And it sounds like something far beyond imagination on my tenth birthday, when I think about being twenty-plus. And someday near from now or tomorrow, without I’m being aware of it, 50 would come when I’m sleeping. But time is something insignificant to me. Even time is cruel, every tick means nothing to my system, but only as a reminder to do normal activities. Loneliness is everything I’ll ever need without constantly expecting some interference from outside world, even though they always manage to do it. I also from time to time had several close calls to death, experimenting the borderline of life and something beyond. Some happened in my dreams, some in my real life. It is not a big deal for me, but others make a fuss over it. Like my parents. They’re afraid losing something not theirs. My soul belongs to me, and me alone should be worrying about it, not them. But it is probably the reason they’re worrying about my soul because they never really acknowledge the freedom of existing in the place I visit the most, the place I love the most, so they never really think exceeding the life they’re living, which I believe on their understanding: nothing exist for us to go beyond this life. Even some religions believe on the idea of heaven and hell, but they could proceed to move on to the spiritual world only when they gave up on their life and souls. Still, we won’t be able to enjoy it or suffer for it nor even to tell the tale of it because, from what I heard, we lost our desires over worldly necessity when we died. Yet, none is able to prove it.

But people will always have to commute with their kind and never really understand about the very souls on their possessions, and to know that they could be free from anything, even from their own body if they wanted to. Only they never had the chance to grasp of it in the cause of preoccupied with their routine life, and misunderstood the idea of this freedom I am talking about. On the other hand, people tend to see me as some kind of weirdo with my solitary life – they would even think I’m weirder if they knew about the experiments I did about life and death. I am always be the one standing alone at the edge of the society. Just like when I was in high school, I had no one to called as a friend. Classmates were just classmates. Worked the same as fellow members in literature club. Nothing but a bunch of people in a same place and time doing the same thing. And to be real honest, there was nothing wrong with them. I understood enough about their kindness and their good intention to even tried coping with me. But I just couldn’t bear myself breathing among them.

I almost spent half of my life in solitude. I love to spend myself alone. It’s not very easy to protect myself and you can imagine what would I be when I have to protect myself and someone else. Nope! Unimaginable. I didn’t mean to abandon my faith on making friends or to be around other human being. I perfectly understand how it felt to have someone to be called as friend, because when I was a third grader on primary school, I was a normal 9 years old kid just like the others. I had a friend – or I would think so to some kid living next door that spent lots of his time with me playing in the mud or had a race when it was raining then got sick together on the next day. It was a memory to me and I would keep every moment very dearly. Yet, I have forgotten his name completely.

I know how fun it was to enjoy such connection with another human being. Until recently I realized that I have closed my door for anybody from getting in. Since when you might ask, and I couldn’t be happier to give you an answer as to myself. Sadly, I have no idea when I started my malicious habit of cutting everyone else out of the frame. Probably it happened when I was asleep, once dreaming about the last breathing unicorn in the wilderness and found out that the unicorn felt no such sadness in the least for being slowly dragged in the path of extinction as the time passed by. Then probably when I woke up from that dream, I decided to be akin of that cunning lonely unicorn. Or I could probably happened to be a different human with no trace of existence when my mother called me after I stared at the stars and figured out that they are there all the time even when in a bright day full of sunlight. I really couldn’t pick the precise time of when the incident occurred. But the damage is done; I took their calling as a weirdo from that some time I couldn’t tell when. Even if I knew exactly when, nothing’s really matter.

I live with my family. My dad passed away years ago, so I live now with Mom and a little brother. To my family, there is no big difference. I am an odd oldest son and a peculiar big brother. They would call me something else than weirdo with almost the same meaning. Maybe the sound of weirdo was a bit too rough to be said on a family member. And to protect me from harm, mom invented quirky or peculiar as to be my name at home. But for me, I couldn’t be care less about how people labeled me. Call me anything and I’ll be fine considering I have no attachment to a name or anything except my own existence.

From time to time, I like to do things without giving any thought to others or to my surrounding. Even occasionally time is an easy peculiar object to forget. I would read, draw, write, or just simply sit by myself at coffee shop called J’aime Plus Café near my home. But most of the time I spent at the cozy coffee shop because in the house I am almost never exist to be called a member of the family.  So there is nothing gone missing if I’m out. Life goes on for everyone.

I don’t go to university anymore, besides I don’t want to put more pressure to mom as a single parent, I also see that such a waste of the peculiar source I have in me and I’m not planning to come back in any near future. Since I am an outcast son in the family, they can’t be bothered with whatever I’m doing. Mom gives me my monthly pocket money, just enough to buy books and my expenses for coffees I’m having. While for food, I always eat at home, usually alone, when everyone is busy doing their things. Hence, I am doing as what I’m supposed to do, which is to read in the café. I read almost every day, in every chance I got. But somehow I barely touched the books at home. It just feels out of place if I read books at home. Like you hold your breath in a room full of air and you take a deep breath inside a swimming pool. Even occasionally I tried to read, then the feeling of bewildered glued to me in no sign of letting go for hours no matter how far I went after it stroke. So I gave up on reading books at home and always go to the café if I want to read. And today, I will do the same thing I’ve been doing for the past two years.

As I walk to the coffee shop, I often let myself to be consumed by emptiness and just accept my surrounding flows, and that includes the people roaming the streets and the scenery that never change for many years. If you watch them closely, people are funny belongings of the world. They love to gather with their kind. They love to just walk and talk meaningless things. They buy something they don’t really need, and they also ridiculously dance on some weird computerized songs they called techno or stuff like that in a dark room with blazing sharp shooting laser beam of lights and blasting speakers that you have to shout if you want to speak. They are amazing article to be learned. Probably, on my humble guess, they don’t even know what they’re doing.  It’s just a hunch but I am almost sure of it, judging from their gestures and a little spent time on examining them as I walk to the coffee shop or to anywhere.

There are times of few people wanted to be friends with me – which I never had a clue why they did. And I also tried to let them in, but it was not as easy as it sounds. When you do so, you have to accept them to be near to you, go with them, talk those meaningless things, or even in special cases rarely happen, they would ask for your sacrificing. Oh what a silly things to do. So I’m giving up the bonding process and just enjoy the day on my own. Easy, simple, and it is far more fun thing to do – at least for me. I could be on myself for 24 hours the whole week. Unfortunately I can’t never possibly do that. I have to go to meet my parents, go to class -which now I’m happy that I don’t need to do that-, and even ordering my coffee need to interact with another human being. Surprisingly, in order to avoid people and have my solitude, I have to meet people. What a weird world.

People stare at me oddly like I’m some kind of rare animal walking in to the café. It has been six days since that day. I take a seat close to the window on the left side of the room and start my study on human behavior and abnormality. Some of them brave enough to get near and take the empty seats from me when I am watching the street full of people. I salute them for doing so. I can also sense that they’re glancing to me behind my back, and a small talk is on the move about me. Fifteen minutes was the longest record for the longest talk starring me as the main character. I let them be. They probably wouldn’t do that if I told them that these earphones I putted on weren’t even connected with any music player. I was listening to them these whole times, while they talked about me. I am doing it just to make sure of the information I have gathered this far and it is satisfying because I make a point of one important information is true; they talk meaningless things.

At one clear summer day, when the sun was right above head, as I sipped my cappuccino and reading my 68^th page on a novel I just bought on the way to the café about the existence of one being, a girl suddenly took her liberty to sit across of me. I putted down my cup while staring at her without words. She smiled to me. I was waiting for her explanation, while slowly taking off my fake earphones. I was pretending that I had to pluck it off from some kind of music device and putted my earphones on the table, lying lifelessly when it separated from its imaginary life source. I had to, that’s if I’m projecting the perfect role of an earphones. Then the earphones became a sort of useless chord seeing it that way. While she, moved her hands on the table and supported her chin on her both palms. She also kept that eerie smile for me. Something was deformed from her smile. I closed my book, rolled my hand to my chest, leaned back, and waited for her to explain herself. Two minutes wasted on wordless and motionless picture of us. On those two minutes I learned that she has a charming face. You could say it’s attractive if you see her face intently for two minutes. White blouse she was wearing a bit oversize, but flawless on her. Her short haircut was perfectly done to her straight hair. She was smiling; I did nothing but staring at her and waited. And we were keeping our unregistered conversation for some more time. A minute more passed without a trace of explaining herself, so I putted back on the fake earphones, plucked it in again to my imaginary music device in my pocket, open my book where I left it, and started to read again. She won on still and mute scene. But on the edge of my motion to start my imaginary music, she opened sound.

“Aren’t you going to ask what am I doing here?” She finally let me won on the silence scene on the first word in the second sentence of the 68^th page’s third paragraph. Now we’re even.

Her voice was lovely and calm. Like she knew exactly what she was doing. I took off my sight from the book and stared at her. She was really good at motionless part. She was still on the same position as the time I left her smiling with those hands keeping her chin upright. Like she never really asked me the question and been there from the very first time the café opened. Then I decided to kill my earphone for the second time and laid it there again on the table.

“I know what you’re doing.” I simply replied without the slightest idea of it.

“Wow! Are you a psychic?” She asked me excitedly, no trace of mockery. She probably did believe I’m a psychic.

“Yes, but I’m on training. I can only read minds, but not a past nor future.” I was planning to see what would she do when I say that. I closed my book, preparing to hear what she might say.

“You are super cool! I really want to have a mind reading super power. Where can I learn that? Can you teach me a bit of the technique?” She asked with a ferocious excitement and let her chin go from her supporting hands. I realized I probably could go somewhere with this interesting random conversation.  But then I wondered what kind of girl were she and what she was studying at and so many questions about her popped up in my head. Was it I starting to let myself to make a flaw upon this girl attendance? Or maybe she had a special power to unleash solitary into friendliness?  I begin to feel glimpse excitement too. I finally smiled to her and took a sip again preparing another exciting answer. Now I let her knew what it feels to wait. I took my time real slowly. But she was a persistent beggar. I could tell from her gestures. Probably she repeated the questions inside hear mind too.

“No I can’t. I have to keep my training hidden until I fully mastered the whole procedures.” I finally gave up to her pressure.

“Ah! That’s too bad. But what do you mean by keeping it hidden while you are here telling me that you have a psychic power?” She dropped all her weight to the seat and looked really disappointed. She really expressed herself freely. Interesting girl, I marked her on my mind.

“Yes about that. Uum..” I stared at her on her white blouse and her short hairstyle steals my explanation. When I saw her there, all those people behind her roaming the street started to fade and begun to come at me as blurry images I could not fathom.

“My bad. I shouldn’t be telling you that.” I simply said.

“But when someone knows about your secret training, nothing bad going to happen right? Or could it be someone is going to chase after the information I had mustered?” She was teasing me, I can tell. So I didn’t reply her and smiled instead.

It was very rare of me to have such meaningless full of tricks conversation. So what was happening with her is somehow amusing to me. It always had been I replied truthfully and necessarily or I didn’t reply at all and walked away. It was the first time since a long time – I don’t know precisely when – that I cheerfully replied to nonsense. I felt awkwardly happy about that remote feeling. This girl sat before me looked pulling me to her cunning gravitation, made me live on the same world as these people I didn’t like that much. Interesting.

We didn’t talk since she understood that learning the technique of the imaginary mind reading super power is forbidden. But I also never returned to the book I was reading. I let it stuck on the 68^th page. Then her drink found its way to the table. It was an ice lemon tea. Drips of water racing down on the surface of the glass, and it wasn’t full, letting me know that it had been waiting for a quite a while to made the move to its owner. She must’ve had asked the waitress to let it wait awhile until she could make sure that she could sit with me. It was just a hunch so I keep it for me and let us flow.

She drank it from a straw and her both hands holding on the glass. This peculiar girl might thought the glass would resists her from reducing its’ contain and runs off somewhere to avoid it from being a half empty rather than the way it wanted to be thought of; a half full glass. But it was not provoking the tiniest bit of weirdness when she does it. Like it almost natural and everyone else would do the same if the same thing happens. She drank it gracefully, giving her some extra point aside from her strange behavior, which was for me is something special too. She got back to her chin supporting hands again when she was done drinking. Duke Ellington’s song played on the background. ‘Take The “A” Train’ is the title if I was not mistaken.

I know a bit about Duke Ellington from my dad. When I was young, my dad used to play records the morning he opened his eyes and when he was about to sleep. He liked to dance along with the groovy music; he named the mo-town music. Often I joined his cool groovy dance and laugh a lot when we invented new moves that get along with the music. He taught me a bit too how to dance like Al Green or Marvin Gaye, and it was fun dance to do. Mom would smile on both of us and said I could be my dad when he was a small kid. And I believe I was going to be a normal person as I grow. We would sleep after he told me a tale he made up that instant. Some about a clock making stories, some about staring in the dark, some about a peculiar boy that talks to his own shadow. I never got tired of his stories. He had the largest space of imagination I’ve ever found. He also putted lots of funny noises when he was telling his story.

“Tick Tock Shush Tick Tock Hush, whisper all the clocks in Mr. Cuckoo’s working garage. They silently let all their possession, which is time, to flow all over the room and bathe Mr. Cuckoo while he is working on their little cousin, the pocket watch.” Once he said when he told me about the story about thousand clocks hung in a single room as big as my sleeping room – which is not very big -. Some worked properly in time on every tick, some ran ahead of the real precise time, some got left behind and seems lazily catching up with the others, while the rest refused to move a tick and stayed still dead on Mr. Cuckoo’s working garage. My imagination went wild every time he works on the story he could describe the details as if I was seeing it through his very own eyes at the moment. Like I’m a blind man guided by my father to see his imaginary world. Along the storytelling he could also adjust the story to my questions. Oh I always thought he was the best dad ever until one day he went stiff beyond his flexible attitude just like the rest of the clock in Mr. Cuckoo’s working garage.

That happened five years ago when I was in my first stage being solitary. It was the day when he went dead and left me alone to my loneliness beyond recovery. My mom and brother gave up on me and let me be on my own since then. And mom began to work to provide money for my brother and me. I was literally on my own, thinking could it be I was the reason he wanted to be stiff? Could I cause him to feel that I started to dispatch myself from the need of his bedtime stories? I used to think that he was the only guy that could understand me. But I supposed I was wrong. He left me to my own, lost in the riddle of his stories told unfinished. I was planning to ask about all of the meaning of his unique stories later when I was at the age of fully mature imagination. He must’ve hid some kind of hidden meaning to them or otherwise he wouldn’t tell me those peculiar tales. But he was gone with no point of return. And soon after I also lost the ability to smile. A price i paid for his cunning imaginations.

That was why I kind of questioning myself why could I smile and talk normally to this girl sitting across of me?  Because of her I was starting to think there could probably several others like her that might change my perception about this boring world, which I hope would never happen, as it happened right on my very own eyes. So I stared at her, figuring out how could she exist and found me on the spot, while I always thought I hid myself pretty well, conserving my existence. I am the person that always thought that this world I am living is such a boring place to be. She stared me back with her smile, probably figuring out too how such human like myself exist. Words began to disappear again. I felt at peace for the first time on the company of other human being near to me for the past many years. Silence crept in upon us. I begun to adopt her gestures for myself and enjoy the passage of time in the company of a stranger I just met.

She stood up suddenly from her seat and settled next to my left. Her glass stayed on its place untouched in her move. Once she sat properly, she took her left hand on the table and begins her ritual; chin resting on her hand. I let her closing in. I was not afraid of her. She was different from others. And we stared at each other for quite some time savouring the words (again). She smiled occasionally in our staring contest. I did nothing but to think of her. Picturing her in my mind embracing our wordless conversation. Questions have lost their power on me as the time ticks. I was no longer asking about everything. She smiled wider, as if knowing I accepted her move to get closer to me.

“Tick Tock Shush Tick Tock Hush” My father’s voice echoes from memory far away to the present time.

We were delighted by silence, entwined it to nurture the entire noises surround us.  We could hear nothing but there is nothing to hear after all – at least nothing worth the time to be heard out there to my part, while to her side I have no single clue. It is very pleasing for me to have her near me. She was not the least avoiding me. She saw me as I am, rejected the loneliness I had uttered the whole time. She knew the limit of her approach; by her light nudge on me, I figured out that she is used to stay in silent too. It was on the edge of being annoying, which one more step towards me would lead her to be the same as those shallow people out there. She was wearing just about the same mask as mine, while hers is a bit easier to adjust mask with a hint of expression on it. Mine, was just a blank mask without any notion of declaring any emotion. She probably got it from the society, squeezing her freedom from getting over the line and forcefully stitches that mask on her pretty face.

Then light began to fade. Orange sky mixed with dark blue starting to colored the day. She and I stay in our position of nothingness to talk about. I started to wonder what a waste of a time on her. She could just go somewhere with normal people in it. A movie probably would do her good. Or library at the least, rather than to just sit here with me. It is not that I am bothered with her presence near me. It was just hardly to believe the situation happened then. To stare her continuously made me realized that she would be an interesting girl if she were not acting like herself – sitting next to a weirdo like me. She has gorgeous eyes, clear, as the flowing water and they seem to see through you. Figuring you out sounded like an easy job to be done. I took a sip of my cappuccino again. But I had lost the game by the second I tried to figure her out. Her eyes were the only things that could see through, it didn’t apply the opposite way.

“So, what are you doing here?” I uttered my wonder in defeat.

She smiled. Slowly she stroked her short hair as if wondering about her was a normal act to do.  She did it in an elegant way. Not to brag or showing off her charm. Everyone saw it would’ve been agree that she did it properly, when someone asks about her, she would do it again. Most probably everyone would be giving a nod to whatever she might do. Some special power only her to posses.

“I thought you are some kind of psychic. You told me so haven’t you?” She looked gorgeous keeping her smile as she teasing me there.

“Well that is correct that I said so. But I am trying to keep things go the normal way.” The ice of her ice lemon tea hit the glass and made a clink in addition to break the silence. No wonder people called it the icebreaker.

“But you yourself is not normal from the feeling I caught when I saw you entering this room. So why would someone pretends he is someone else when he is not?” She asked calmly, looking into my eyes. I could feel that by these answers –or questions -, she was the one figuring me out rather the reverse way around.

“I am not pretending as someone else normal. I have to agree with you that I am not normal. Either you have monitored me before or just a lucky guess, but it is true just as you said. Nonetheless I am doing this because I thought that you are normal and here, on this precise table, you are my guest. Shouldn’t it obvious I oblige to behave as a good host, welcoming his guest a normal way?” I defend myself; try to turn myself back into the game.

“Ah I see. A good host you are, I have to agree..” She paused like letting the words to sink inside me. So I could remember what might’ve come after.

“But it must be intended for someone else. However, as a good guest myself I supposed I have to say that you are doing it wrong, when it comes for me as your guest.” She takes the last drip of her drink and raises her hand informing the waitress for another round. So I think this would be a long conversation considering she asked for another glass. Ok, I am in! And I drank my nearly cold cappuccino and decided to go for another round of it.

“Oh you think I’m doing it wrong? Could you please elaborate to me where did I go wrong with acting normally to a guess?” I asked her when I drained my cappuccino.

She didn’t reply me right away. She smiled so beautifully and let me figuring it out myself. Then the waitress came asking for our drinks. I asked for another cappuccino and she also ordered her second round ice lemon tea. The waitress asked permission to take out our empty glasses and informed us that our drinks should come in few minutes. She did it effortlessly, soundlessly and in a blink of an eye she went with our empty glasses fading in to the crowded room. I begun to realize that the number of visitors have increased greatly as the night descending. It was almost noisy and packed. They clinked as they eat, talked things I couldn’t possibly understand. Some of them came in suits after a long day of work, some wore normal jeans and t-shirts like I was wearing. I turned myself back to her. How could she cut off these people from us? I never realized it had begun to amazes me how she also managed to manipulate the space between people inside the café and us. I smiled in reply. It would be lovely to have her around. I had the power to cut them off too, but with her as an ally, I could go much further than just to cut them off.

“So, let me tell you where you did it wrong.” She began to talk as if she knew the waitress would come soon when she raised her hand. Wait! Isn’t it obvious for waitress to give us service promptly? I also seem to loose my way to my logic on her accompany. Like she gave me amazing feeling when she’s around but by the time it started to settled down to me, and the next few second it flipped me confused in her charm. Those two things couldn’t be swept away unless she turned her glance somewhere else.

“I am not normal myself and you know that. So what you are doing here might be an insult to a normal guest, as you treating a guest you know so differently to her nature. You should be thankful that I don’t take it personally and I would let it slip this time.” She explains with so much understanding of what I think of her. Maybe she’s the real psychic here. Nothing can hide its existence from her.

“Well I am so sorry that I take you the wrong way. It is just..-” I lost my explanation and begin to feel a hint of guilt. Why did I treat her differently when I knew she is not normal like me? I have nothing to answer that. It leaves only a blank of edgeless pitch-black space that exists inside of me. Perhaps soon I will be lost beyond recover inside her mystifying hex.

“I did tell you that I don’t take it personally right? So don’t say sorry and let’s carry on.” She paused and letting her words to fused deep into my soul. “We are here because you and I share a lot in our possession. And I discovered some weird feeling relayed to me when you entered this café for the first time. I could be the one to drive you here or it could go the other way around. But the point is, we attract each other without any way to escape that fact. I couldn’t possibly ignore that when it’s happening right before my eyes. So I watched you for days. Sometimes you came here and spent a lot of time being alone like you wanted to break free from something. And some other time you were somewhere else which I gave no such interest to figure out. But let me tell you that the feeling begins to grow bigger on each day passed every time you came into the café. I am afraid that if I let it grows bigger, you might do something silly affecting others or hurting yourself.” She begins to sound so serious but never letting go her gorgeous smile. I blink, as if blinking might help me to understand what she was saying. It could also because her smile I lost the ability to catch the words and let them go to the edgeless space inside of me. Blink is all I can produce to reply her.

“Before you carry on, you have to excuse me and my slow brain. But I barely catching up to any word you were saying. They all seem so strange to me.” I utter my feeling truthfully as I am supposed to do from the very first time she sat in front of me rather than to lie and acted like she was normal. It took me more time than a normal person would do.

“Neither do I. It is all just a feeling I feel. I might explain it better when I figured it out later. But for now let us be together so I can suppress your power while I’m working out the feeling inside me.” Now I feel no such pressure as she is talking. I felt calmness passing on from her to me knowing that we are in this together. But I also perceived a bit of shame having her to understand everything and pacify me – she said it she will let some power inside me stay put and not growing bigger, and that is some kind of baby-sitting matter to me.

Not so long after we paused, the drinks make their way to our table. We said thanks to the waitress and let time ticks again with no words between our lips. We watch the street lamps lighting the path to somewhere. There are people in the café. Not as much as it were before but still they lingering to make lots of noises. Oh I just wish they could understand the beauty of what we’re doing. Then it strikes me suddenly. How am I supposed to address her? Should I ask or let it just slips before me? It is not a bad idea for me. Others might think to hook up with this fine girl sitting next to me, but it’s not mine to choose. I don’t hook up with girls. That makes it naturally for me to not ask for her name. We might never meet again even she said she would soothes my power in a great serious face.

“Elizabeth.” She wipes her mouth with the napkin after saying it.

“Pardon me?” I ask after sipping my cappuccino. Oh this would make me on guard the whole night. Maybe I could finish my book by morning.

“Elizabeth is my name. But you can call me Ellie. “ She just stitched herself very near to me. Her name would stay inside me for a pretty long time without a doubt. And I should’ve known not to wonder on the thought of knowing her name. I forgot she is a psychic.

“Oh hi Ellie. You can call me anything pleased you. I am not good at such bond with a name.” And I just lied another covering the truth that her name had fused to my brain, locked it deep inside without any way to take it off. I started to think wouldn’t it be great to just separate with knowing none of the names? She’s letting today passes by with a hard struggling. But then a slight of happiness inside me started to surface in my face. I couldn’t control the smile coming to my face. What a beautiful name.  Then what a purpose of a beautiful name for this world? They’re not making the situation we are in now a better one. Neither making a person a better human, just for the sake of a charming name. But her case was a special one. She was perfectly fit her beautiful name. I was very pleased to know her name somehow without any hint of knowing the reason. A fight happened as I stared to her dark eyes. Either I threw away her lovely name or I broke my own defense. I thought I had the time to decide which side I would choose. And so suddenly, she grabbed her glass and stood from her seat, looking down to me with a sad smile comes from nowhere. I was stiff, shocked by her surprise move.

“I have to go.” She said, putting back the chair neatly to the solitary position. While on the other hand, I only got a second to react and ask her to stay. But a second was never enough. Then she left in hurry, left me guessing of what she might call me the next time we meet. I watched her leave. She didn’t even glance back to me. What a relief. I would be lost if she saw me staring at her the whole time. She went out, and crossing the road explicitly. Still by any means I wish she would look back and see me seeing her. Just a blunt wishful thinking of mine, that is.

I come to another regular day inside the café as soon as she left me alone on my seat. People begin to move out to a better café or probably going home before the sun is up. Time cruelly ripped off the pleasure from them and settles down next to them when they realized what they’ve lost. It works that way every night without a fail. But weekend is the time for time to become stronger than ever. It occurs to everyone even to me. I would go to this particular café, read my book joyously and before I know it, my time is eventually will running out and I have to go home then comeback the next day just to be hurt the same way.  What a complex life we are having. Only some realized of it and I consider myself a lucky one to have revealed the true nature of our cunningly ferocious time.

The night is starless; the moon is beautifully glows on the sky above me.  I am walking home from the café after spending four hours reading alone. I have reached almost half of the book and still I am hungry for more. God knows why. It is almost three months since that girl popped up to me. And the most frightening fact is I couldn’t erase our brief meeting out of my mind. Since then I never once saw her again in the café or anywhere near the neighborhood. She couldn’t be come from another city could she? Or that day was the last day of her visit in town and randomly picked someone to spend her time on a random idea popped to her at that exact time she found someone. But whatever her reason was, she sure had me waiting for more of her peculiar performance. Her white blouse and her short haircut linger longer than anyone has ever been in my dream. Several times I had dreaming of her. Some I can remember precisely in details, but some only giving me a reek on the tip of my memory.

The next day I come to the café just close after the lunch. So the café barely filled with customer. Only two tables are occupied. Two businessmen in the same exact suit are seated on one of the table, near the entrance door. They talk distinctively in secrecy by the time I get in and they follow me with a weird glance to my seat. I keep my eyes to them too. Afraid being stabbed from my back. While I put my book on the table, taking off my cardigan, I can see on the corner of the room two girls in the age of mine or just a bit older, reading their books without bothering to look at me. That’s just perfect, like I want it to be; of no one being aware of my existence. Probably that is the best option for both parties. So I leave them at peace and wish them the best in life. So I begin to read my book where I left it yesterday. But no matter how hard I try to concentrate, she remains on each word passes my eyes.

She was here with me yesterday. Leaving me grasping on what was her intention seated next to me. Her riddles kept me awake the whole night. It’s most positively might stay as a mystery for the rest of my life.

We are in some kind of room without a window to be seen neither a door to excused us. I see her exactly the same as she was on that day.  She is somehow standing on top of me while I move effortlessly copying her movements precisely at a perfect timing only in backwards. Like some kind of string attached from her to me. When she stopped wandering as if to looked for a way out, she is looking down to me, confusedly staring at me.  I try to shout to her, comforting her as to myself. But no matter how loud I shout the words attack me back without a sign picked by her. She never had the chance to hear me when I realize that I am her shadow. My feet stitched to hers, and I lost my freedom to move as to speak.  Even so we are that close, we could never understand each other. We could never be one. But nonetheless, I could feel she is scared standing too close to loneliness. Oh how I wish I could comfort her in my specialty field. I wish hard she could reach the resonance I transmitting. Then I can feel I am sweating. Never I imagine being a shadow I still perform as a normal human being. I am breathing from the sign I collect when my chest expands and shrinks. I know I blinked because I was in a split-second of pure darkness, then I started to see again soon. Just as the same as human being I still feel like one, but in another form. Then she begins to cry. Her shoulders tremble a lot. Slowly but sure she raise the amount of her tears. And at the edge of her cry, she shouts something ferociously not in a human language, born from pure desperation. Close to be called as a howl, emitted from her mouth.  I push myself hard from being sewn to the ground, opposing the great force of gravitation and try to reach her hand. It is painful, like being skinned alive. But I have no time to complain. Her time is limited; she could break down any moment. I reach out my hand out from the ground. She doesn’t see it. Good. She would probably freaked out to see her shadow popped up to reach her. Then miracle happens, I finally touch her hand. She realizes something holding her hand and looks down to me. And by that moment, I woke up without being able to say a single comforting sound.

My shirt is slightly soaked when I open my eyes. Perhaps I carried a bit of my body to my dream. My hands are also sweating and sore. I can feel her warmth in my hand. I touched her hand, but never said a word. I check the time next to my bed. The red fluorescence light telling me it is 1.34AM. I bring myself up, gathering all my conscience to the reality. It takes more than it used to take until I fully awake.

“I have to meet her.” I whisper to myself and stand up after I am convinced that the words had sunk to my soul. I walk slowly to get a new shirt. Once I changed, I walk to the window and stare bluntly outside. It is cloudy, but I can see faint glow of the moon hiding behind the cloud. And suddenly I smile because of nothing.

I keep coming back to the café hoping I would meet her again. She was the first to affect me like that. Hoping for another chance of meeting. I would almost look at the entrance when someone’s wiggling the doorbell hoping it would be that peculiar girl leaves me uneasy for the past three months. I also started to leave my imaginary earphones at home so she could tap me anytime without being afraid to bothers me when I’m in a deep reading. And in those months of her non-appearance, I had finished two books. I also decided to come to the same book as she had found me, hoping that she would appear if I came back to the beginning of our meeting. I am also close to wear the same shirt I was wearing on that day, but drop the idea because I would look too desperate to meet her which in fact I actually am.  Plus the dream I had continuously bothers me in a way added another agony in my waiting.

When I reach the same page when she turned up three moths ago, all those words she said ringing in my ears. It distracts me, unable to continue, I close the book and also my eyes. Her shadow remains clear to me.  And I still haven’t figured it out why she showed up to me that time. Could she just as I thought, randomly picked stranger she saw and said anything popped up to her head or could she be telling me some weird absurd truth about suppressing my power? I am utterly clueless.

Time passes me by leisurely along with the soothing songs in the café until someone tapped me. Before I open my eyes, my heart beats faster imagining it may be her answering to my calling. Afraid to open it I let that person I have no idea to tap me again which soon I feel another slightly stronger tap. I can’t be coward a second longer, so I open my eyes and finding the waitress stands to my left. She asks if I’m all right with a worried look. I can’t comprehend the question so I ask why you asked? She says she had been watching me for quite some times and I was closing my eyes while sat still. She was afraid I was unconscious. I can’t help it but to laugh. Been awhile I didn’t laugh like that. So I smile and thanking her for the attention, tell her I am okay. She sighs and smile, thanking god that I am okay. Then she asks whether I want another cappuccino when she sees my empty cup. Before I reply her, she is surprised that I read Anton Chekov’s book. Well I say yes I read him. The title “My Life” intrigued me to buy and so I am reading it (again) now.

Just as the same as the peculiar cunning girl, she took liberty in my empty seat. I looked surprise by the same action she took. Do I look like someone who giving up freedom to people to be seated next to me? She sees my reaction and stands up again, begging my forgiveness for being rude sitting without asking my permission. I hold back a few second and then aware she is waiting for me to say I forgive her. Soon after I snapped from my amazement, I said it’s all right. It is not you, I said to her.

“It’s just you remind me of someone I barely know.” I continued.

“Oh I see. I am glad to hear that. May I sit here with you?”

“Aren’t you supposed to be working now?”

“Look around. You are the only one here.”

Then it registered to me that I am the only customer in the café. I have no idea for how long I have been alone but reading a book always takes a lot of my attention. And it becomes clear to me how she said she had been watching me, because no one is in. So I blush for the thought that she is a bit attracted to me, and I let out a weak agreement.

“Is it that girl who sat with you few months ago? Two or three months ago I believe.” She says and sitting back to her seat next to me.

“It was three to be precise. And yes it is her that I am thinking about when you did what you did.”

“Ah so are you guys fighting at the moment? I haven’t seen her lately. Had you upset her?” She asks and at the same time taking off her apron. I am quite amaze she does that while she’s on duty and I pause for a while taking up these plenty unthinkable things happening at the moment.

“Oh this? Yeah I am not allowed to sit in the café if I’m wearing apron.” She says simply while folding up her apron and lays it on her lap.

“I see.” I couldn’t come up with a better reply.

“Ok, let’s get back to our chat. So?”

“So what?”

“Ugh! Yeah as I said before, had you upset her? She hasn’t been here for a while.” She said and takes off her glasses, cleans it with the tip of her tidy folded apron.

“Oh no. It never crossed my mind to upset someone else.” I urgently reply.

“That’s good. But impossible to do.” She says almost whispering,

“That’s what I thought too!” I am nearly exited and shout to her. I found what I did and curl up in my seat. She giggles and calms me down.

“It’s all right. No customer will be annoyed since you’re alone here.” She continues giggling after saying it. And adding, “May I know why you think so too?”

I wait for a while molding up the best way to tell her what I thought.

“Well as you already know, we live side by side with another. Whether you planned not to upset someone, sometimes just being yourself is upsetting one or two person next to us. It is actually not our fault but not even theirs. Some imaginary guide line been drawn there for so long between one soul to the others so even if we don’t want it, our lives connected in one way to another.”

“Like our customer and waitress bond.” She throws the simplest example.

I just nod to that considering she might have another link between us.

“And if we make those lines visible, it’ll produce a whole lots of mess in the streets.” I smile on that weird concept I just created. And it is because I also imagine how far will this imaginary lines stretch. I could have gone to my lost peculiar girl somehow through the connections. Oh! It would be easier to find her. All I have to do is to trace our line where one end is the one I’m holding on so tightly while she would be there at the other end. But I know the old saying; what’s worth having, won’t come easy.

If there’s such invisible thread linking me to her, then I shouldn’t be worry. It’s all set and chained. Eventually even I have no possible way of knowing it, we will meet again based on my own hypothesis, that she hasn’t done with her riddle and she needs me to decipher it. And she is also still appearing in my dream, so I believe we would meet again.

“I better get back to work.” Her voice wakes me up from my daydreaming.

“Oh ok.” I have no idea but I stand up before she does and offering my hand to help her up. She smiles, a bit confused that I can tell from her face, but she doesn’t mind and take my hand.

“Thank you very much sir.”

“Not a problem ma’am.”

So we do our thing while smiling. I take a glance at her soon before she gets back to the bar, so I tried to get back to my reading but I never get the chance to really fathom the words. I am scanning the words. None of it gets down to my brain. I don’t even understand the sentence I’m reading. Each word stands for their selfish meaning with no relation to the next. I am really confused what’s coming to my life. It all started from that moment my peculiar girl touched me with her cunning character. Suddenly somehow I am normally talk and exchanging connection with others so fluently. But at the moment I am deep in thought, another tap reached my shoulder. I look at the tapper, and it is her again, the waitress of the café.

“Sorry to bother you again, but how long are you staying?” She asks me.

“Oh sorry, I didn’t notice. Ok I’ll leave now.” I hurriedly pack my stuff on her cue about closing in. At least that is my only presumption when an employee of a café is asking you on that matter of my stay.

“It’s not that you silly. I was about to ask you if you’re going to stay long, would you wait until I finish?” She kind of blushes a bit when she finished her words and looks the other way. I am confused with whatever she is trying to say. No matter how many times I try to solve it over and over inside my head, I am still asking why should I wait for her in a flash of a second. But I never really ask her why instead I wait in silent hoping she’d carry on to finish her words. Or perhaps that was it and I am supposed to reply it now? Then as I’m about to reply she continues.

“Ok just wait here for me.” She walks to the employee’s room leaving me puzzled, and comes out with a jacket in her hand, and then as she passes the bar, she says something to the café’s master. And café master smiles and glances to my direction. Then she walks on towards me.

“Let’s go.” She says while putting on her jacket. She brings nothing but her jacket. She never giving me the chance to reply, then she pulls my hand and leading me out.

“What is going on here?” I ask her as we walk out. It is a chilly night. We are on the edge of the coming winter after all. The wind makes it even colder night. Only a handful of people are seen struggling with the cold night street. Some I can tell that they’re from work, while the others are between going out or going home. It doesn’t really matter to me. They could go wherever they pleased for I hate whatever they’re doing. But then I get back to the thought of my jacket. “Will it be enough to tolerate the cold?”

In the stretch time of my thinking, she gives no sign of answering my question to her. So I just follow her wherever she leads me. She walks medium fast and I walk a few steps behind her, close enough to hear if she’s mumbling. Broken words sometimes reach my ears. I know that I talk to myself a lot. But I barely knew anyone that does too. First hundred meters, she never says a word nor even looks back to confirm I am still following. But I am following her somehow. I take her notion as a matter of trust. She trusts me that I would follow so it never crossed my mind to betray that. I keep on following her. As we walk on the wind begins to blow harder. Some of it delivered cold into my bones. So I’m considering to start smoking but to smoke I have to keep my hand outside in the cold. So I let the chance slip and keep on walking. I had to shrug a bit, but there is no clue of her feeling the same way as I am. I put my hands into my not too thick jacket pockets to warm up a bit. Even I’m not wearing my winter coat, it helps rather than to let it hang out in the cold night. My hands are pretty numb at first. It takes time to regain the sense to feel. Gradually warmth begins to visit my hand in the pocket. When I started to feel better and fisting them inside, my right hand rubs against something. I take it out, and find out it is a piece of paper. I have no idea what is it or when did it get there.

The paper neatly folded just like a handkerchief and her apron. So I spread it open slowly while keeping up the distance with her. She has walked two or three steps further. The scenery has changed from the city life into the suburb. I wonder where is she leading me now?

But my first priority is to find out whatever may be inside the paper. Because we are walking, I have not enough light to find out.  So I stopped under the street lamp and try to figure it out. I look up to her on her walk, call her to wait, and then get back to the paper without waiting her to stop. Slowly my eyes get use to the dim yellowish fluorescent light of the street lamp. It is a letter. Neatly written.

Hello stranger,

It’s been awhile since our last meeting. I hope you’re doing fine and well. When you read this, I might probably no longer be around. You might look for me but it’ll make it even harder to find me. And if you’re waiting for me, you’re walking in the right path. So please, wait for me until we meet again. Be very patient please. I’ll make sure we’ll see each other again someday.

PS: Just an advice, don’t let down your guard. Many others out there want your power as to mine. Take care always.

 

Ellie

It is a brief letter from my lost peculiar girl, Ellie. It amazes me because for almost three months long the letter has been there without me ever notice about it. How could it be? Am I that reckless? It is the only jacket I’d wear in such weather. Unbelievable. I let out a sigh and stare up at the sky. Then the glimpse of another possibility comes to visit me. Could she find me some day where I didn’t notice it was her and slipped it into my pocket? If it was so, then she is a mean girl. But then I couldn’t blame her for that. She never knew about my feeling. Or how she rocked my calm life into some stormy unknown weary life. Not realizing the sky is clear and full of stars; I keep on staring on something in between the sky and me. But my gaze never reached those beautiful twinkling stars, preoccupied with wondering how her letter found me. As I stare pointlessly of what should I do next, I heard my name being called. Then I snapped back to reality and grasp that I was not walking here alone. It takes time to remember that I was walking with the waitress of my favorite café, which I never know her name, few moments ago. Probably I’ll ask after this about her name.

“Come here! What are you doing there? I have not much time.” She is shouting from the dark somewhere. I couldn’t tell where even her voice sound so clear and pretty near to me.

“Where are you?” I have to ask before I made a move and got lost.

“Here. Look at to your east!” So I do as she told and I can see a little silhouette of her on top a hill waving at me. Thanks to the bright city light at the background, I can find her pretty easy.

Soon later, while walking climbing up the small hill to her, I keep rehearsing the letter Ellie had given me somehow. Like a CCTV recorded a crime scene and play it in repeat, knowing it happened in the past, so you can only watch it, learn something from it but never will never be able to change a thing from it. I might probably no longer around. What did she’s trying to say with that sentence? Is she telling me that she moved far away? Or she died? I am hoping it is not the second one. Whatever the meaning, she also said that we would meet each other again. And also I shouldn’t be looking for her. I should just wait. And I’m considering what I’ve been doing these past three months. I am looking for her by waiting inside the café for Ellie the whole day inside the place where we first met. I’m giving up the thought by the time I get closer to the top of the hill while she waits for me.

There in top of the hill she is staring at the sky keeping her words from me when I stand next to her and say hi. But I don’t mind about that. She can do whatever she may as long no one get hurt. Not for long I look at what she is staring at. And I can hardly breathe then. The sky is covered with stars. Almost all of constellations I know are visible. Cutting out others not so familiar to me, it is all breath-taking. I never thought I could find such amazing view in a city. Most of the cities I know are polluted; sky scrapers block the sky from being spotted. I am speechless and I’m forgetting to blink until I feel my eyes so dry and my vision begins to blur.

So I blink a few times and rub them with both of my palms just to get their normal feeling. Not hard, gentle enough to nudge my tears to spread equally. It is then she makes a sound. My eyes still hurt.

“I found this place when I was a child.” She says almost whispering as if remembering something distant from the past. I smile not because imagining her as a child but because we have something in common, like the thread we were talking back in the bar. She and I could only watch the past in repeats, but powerless to change it.  Even I believe God won’t be able to do it.

“ My father wouldn’t let me to go here. It was kind of far from my house. Let me see.” Then she goes scanning the small houses below. From row to row, from left to right she points. Mumbling and pointing here and there. I barely listen to her but to go along as her finger points. She points the church I know, then a school, a train station, tracing down the streets as a sniper following her prey and waiting for the right time to shoot until then her finger stopped on top of some houses. I can’t tell which house her prey is. She cocks the gun, bullet slides into the barrel, her finger gets to the trigger, and rests there. She breathes slowly to hide her existence and as a cushion against twitching. Her eyes narrowing down to her prey to the center of an invisible scope. And she shoots.

“There! It was my house. Now you can see why Dad never allowed me to go here.” She keeps her finger pointing the house she mentioned, while she smiles to me.

I squint, to see whether her target been killed or running in frenzy from a nearly hit bullet. But I can’t see it therefore I pretend to see.  I give her few nods and a little noise as an agreement. Mission accomplished, no word is necessary, and the night begins to hush again. Not for long a pack of jet fighters fly above us. We can only hear the sound but unable to put them into form, throbbing the silent night sky as they go faster than the speed of sound. We wait for them to go until we can’t hear them. Not that we want to talk about something but by any all means, we need the silence for a while. But it is just to get us far from our normally life full of unnecessary noises raping us from uttering our thoughts freely. It is sad but unavoidable circumstance as long as we’re living among them.

The longer the silence sticks to us, the weirder the feeling I get standing next to her. It feels like I am playing a role so important holding up to handful of answers for the entire questions inside her head. Like I am here to help her out seeking the truth but I haven’t got the liberty to give in before she asked, savoring the answers inside me while on the other hand I know that she is in need of the final touch to get all the mystery solved. Yet I am far from telling her everything. She also knows about it but somehow she lost her freedom when it comes to asking permission for a key of her cage leads to anywhere she pleased. Like an invisible power suppressing her body, lying down close to the ground with such great amount of gravity.  I am helplessly staring at her as she stares back to the sky and she sighs then closes her eyes. While on the other hand I haven’t got a clue of what to say.

“Okay let’s go back. I have to finish my job.” She opens her eyes and smile towards some memories she putted up in the sky as if she’s saying goodbye. Then she turns around and walks back. I do as I did; her prisoner, walking behind her. The night is silent, I barely see someone on the street to the café. I wonder what’s the point of this walk and the meaningless talk? Should I ask? Or could it be she was just needed someone to share about her feeling? I give up on thinking and deciding to smoke.  Somehow the urge to smoke is so severe.

I take my cigarette and walk slowly so the wind wouldn’t blows the fire. It is kind of hard act to do since she walks pretty fast now, like being out in the cold night would bring back all her emotional memories. Since the wind is merciless on me, I have to stop and light up my cigarette. After a few attempts, I got it lit. But she is no longer on sight. No one is around. I am suddenly left alone on the street without knowing when did she walk way ahead of me. I was just stopping for a few second, and the next she was out of sight. So I have no choice but to walk back to the café and ask her for her name like I was planning to.

I am a bit relieved that she did walk first, so I have time to think of lots of thing, sorting out weird activities happened lately to me. I am sure enough that Ellie is responsible for my abnormal transformation, which is sadly, normal for others to see. I wonder then what would I see when I look into the mirror. Will I like what I see? Will I stay like this? Even though I feel and I know that I could normally perform as the others, I still feel the same towards those humans beside myself. This society still reeks of malice thoughts and speeches. I walk with the thoughts slowly, never realizing the cigarette stubbed in my mouth. Ellie is the one to make me think of the power I possessed when I think there is nothing to excite me any longer.  She makes me thrived in wonder for the first time since my dad stopped telling me stories.

In my walk full of thoughts, then I hear my name being called in a low resonant like this someone is calling from afar beyond this place. I can’t see anyone around when I search for the source. Even so, I am confident enough to point out that someone’s calling my name in the middle of the cold dark night. Perhaps the wind helps my name to stretches out and bends the distance. But either way, the voice reaches me on the spot and makes me halt. I wait for another following up, in case another information needs to be thrown to me. But none until finally a tap shocks me and wakes me up from my spacing out moment. It is the waitress. I am still in shock until I discovered that I am halting in front of the café.

“What are you doing stopping outside?” She says while curling up try to savoring every heat from escaping her body. She got back in her apron so I guess she has started to work again.

“Nothing.” I simply reply her but still in the edge between the shock and disbelieve of my previous hearing of the voice inside the shadow. But I couldn’t possibly tell her. She might think I am weird beyond what she already thought of me. So I keep it to myself and walk in to the café. It is fairly filled. Then I see my favorite seat has a reserved sign on it. So I am walking to another empty seat close to the bar.