it’s the little things that set me offPosted: July 12, 2008
“I saw your favorite shirt in someone else’s cloth.”
The sheer abruptness of this statement took her aback. Alcohol spilled on her tablecloth, which she quickly covered with a nearby napkin. She took a glance at the yellow umbrella. His grip tightened on it. It was the same umbrella she had left at the coffee shop that rainy afternoon.
“It was when I walked past our favorite coffee shop yesterday. It reminded me of you.”
He still had the gall to use the pronoun “our”. It set off a mild reaction, a nervous tick barely noticeable except to his trained eye. He learned every one of her little quirks, for he knew she did the same. The other patrons of the restaurant were unfazed by the exchange between the two, they were clearly caught up in their own worlds of wine and dining. He continued, with her somewhat undivided attention,
“I saw your haircut at the bus stop earlier today. I knew that I had to find you.”
Inside, she knew that she never really liked him. The feeling of dislike was, in fact, mutual. The universe, in it’s infinitely mysterious and undeniably strange ways, had a way of drawing them together. How could she ‘love’ someone she didn’t ‘like’? How could they possibly ‘work’? Thoughts filled her mind, combined with the cadence that was surrounding her, and produced an odd trance. It was broken as the chair across from her scraped the floor before creaking at the sound of someone sitting on it.
They exchanged glances before returning to empty stares.
He was half-heartedly perusing the menu. She stared into her wine, lost in thought.
It was always the little things that reminded him of her. The aroma of the coffee from that day, hearing someone cough just like she coughed as he sat, trying to work. Every attempt he made to forget her was futile, she was a permanent fixture in his mind. He never really liked her, and he knew that feeling of dislike was mutual.
This was a mistake.
He stood up silently, and placed the yellow umbrella on the chair. She remained unfazed.
The sound of the door closing snapped her out of her odd trance. She had realized why they were always brought together by the universe’s eternally mysterious and utterly dumbfounding ways. The original annoyances and dislikes were nothing compared to what they shared. She looked up, and her eyes encountered the yellow umbrella.
He was gone.
[As continued from on the way.]