A Philosophical Love Story 1
With a long sigh, the noisy and cold world was finally left behind. The clamor of people and the blaring of cars instantly vanished, and I felt a weight lift off my shoulders.
A small door separated two completely different worlds. I wondered what kind of sky lay beyond the tightly closed door of your heart.
Once again, I sat in the corner. I thought that if you came, I would have enough time to mask my nervousness with a smile.
It was clear that you and I were alike. Only by placing our vulnerabilities in the corner could we feel secure.
Today’s café had only a few patrons. Soft, gentle melodies filled the air, though I still didn’t know the names of the songs. It was enough that they warmed the heart.
A girl sat at the table next to mine, idly doodling on the foggy glass—she must have been waiting for someone too. She drew one sad face after another, then stared at them blankly. The condensation that couldn’t embrace the glass turned into tears and trickled down.
In her drawings, I saw the longing in her heart, reflecting her thoughts, and mine as well.
The waiter came by and placed a glass of water in front of me. I smiled to express my thanks, and she smiled back before leaving. I liked this kind of tacit communication; it spared me the trouble of expressing myself with words, something I wasn’t very good at.
I swirled the glass, staring at the rippling surface, reminiscing…
If I had left this city with you two years ago… Perhaps you really did mix up the time of our meeting.
For seven days, I kept thinking this way.
I deleted and rewrote my text messages again and again. I realized how ridiculous I had become.
The girl at the next table had covered the glass with so many drawings that there was no space left, yet the person she was waiting for still hadn’t arrived. The faces with various expressions were smeared by streaks of water, probably reflecting her anxious heart. It was better than emptiness, at least!
The buzzing of a phone brought a surge of excitement.
I saw the girl quickly grab her phone, her eyes lighting up with a long-lost sparkle. Her world seemed to exist solely for this call, and now it was turning again.
She joyfully tidied her hair, wiped the glass she had doodled on, and squinted her eyes to appreciate the outside world. She was savoring the sweetness, feeling the happiness. I understood.
I picked up my phone and smiled bitterly.
Sometimes, waiting is no longer about anticipating someone’s arrival, but about convincing yourself to leave.
I drank the now lukewarm water in my glass and stepped back into the world outside the door.
Thank you for reading! ” Sitestorys “
