Redlayn

I'd like to retell you a chance encounter I had not too long ago. It happened on a windy, autumn evening. As I was walking through the old city center of Our Town, it started raining. Normally, I wouldn't pay it much attention, but I bought a new coat just yesterday and, fearing that it might get damaged, I quickly scurried to a nearby store that sold raincoats – an umbrella would be useless in the wind. I paid, put the raincoat over my dear new coat and planned to quickly walk to the nearest tram stop to get home.

Alas, fate had other plans. After walking what felt like 10 steps, the rain started to pour down so heavily, I had no choice but to seek refuge in a nearby café. I was not the only one seeking it's warmth and dryness, unsurprisingly. The café was packed with people, but fortunately, one table for two remained empty. I took off my raincoat and hanged it by the entrance, then made my way to the empty table. It was at a corner near the window. Quickly scanning the table, I picked up the little menu and skimmed through it. Soon afterwards, a waitress walked over and asked me for my order. I decided for a cappuccino and a cheesecake. She nodded, quickly jotting the order down on her little notepad and left. I didn't have a lot of items on my person at the time – just my house keys, wallet and an MP3 player with earphones. I fished the player out of my pocket, plugged the earphones into my ears and turned it on. Crying Lighting by Arctic Monkeys started playing. I didn't bother with changing the song. I rested my chin on the palm of my hand and watched the rain pour outside. Halfway through the song, the waitress came with my order. I put a pack of brown sugar in the cappuccino and started eating the cheesecake, turning back to the window to mindlessly watch the raindrops fall at an extraordinary speed, in an extraordinary quantity. Time passed, and near the end of the song, someone walked by the window and moments later, the door to the café opened. The person took off their jacket and hanged it next to my raincoat. When they turned around, I could see it was a woman. Shoulder-length brown hair. A familiar face. Face with glasses. I took a sip of my cappuccino. The woman looked around and saw that the only free seat is the one across me. She walked over and as she got a closer look at my face, her expression distorted into a sour grimace at first, surprise next, and an awkward smile last. She ran her hand through her hair, then steeled herself, looked me in the eye and said her opening line. “Hey, V, it's been a while. Mind if I sit with you?” I couldn't help but let out a little chuckle. Yes, it's been a while. 5 years, to be exact, is what I mutter to myself in my head. I take out the earphones from my ears. “Go ahead. I'm not waiting for anyone, and I can't really send you out into the rain now, can I?” I remark. She sits down and looks at the menu. When the waitress comes, she orders a café latté. I was the one to break the silence. “You know, I never blamed you for anything. I know you probably had a good reason to stop answering my calls. I'd just like to tell you I am different from back then. I grew up a little. I started reading again. I got rid of my smartphone. I fell in love with swimming and I started learning to play the guitar. I cut out the toxic people from my life and now enjoy fairly peaceful solitude, but still meet up with one friend of mine occasionally. I write stories and poems as a little hobby. I've come to appreciate the mundane slice of life. There's a lot I'd love to tell you, but after all, it's been 5 years. I don't know the new, grown up you, and you do not know the new, grown up me.” Throughout this monologue of mine, she looked me in the eyes, patiently listening. I took a sip of my cappuccino and finished the last bit of the cheesecake. “That so?” she said and cracked a smile. “That so. And that's why I'd like to ask you – would you like to get to know the new, grown up me? Because the new me would like to meet the grown up you.”

Made with love by Red.