I'm sitting in a bookstore just killing time
and this girl
sits down on the couch opposite me. College girl, asian, vaguely cute in
the way that girls with killer personalities always seem to be. I watch her
for a minute, Great National Parks of the U.S.
Her shirt advertises a campsite in San Antonio. She leaves, comes back. Yellowstone,
and a coffee. French vanilla, I'd like to think, though really I have no idea.
She has a boyfriend. He sits beside her, flipping through a "Muscle" magazine.
A macho-type guy. He is nothing, I ignore him.
She's gone again. I would get up, see what flavor of coffee she's drinking,
but muscle boy's still there, and still looking about twice my size (I'm more
of an "Astounding/Analog" guy, myself). I wonder how he treats her; he's so
...tough, and she seems so soft and fragile.
They speak japanese, or maybe korean, I can't tell. It sounds pretty, that's
all I know. His voice is soft, belying the incredibly huge muscles on his arms
(I'm getting to be seriously scared of this dude). He must love her; they're
planning a vacation. They argue. He loses. Graciously. I re-think myself; I
will like him.
I cannot look at them anymore; I'm afraid they might notice, and I don't want
them to hate me. They seem so nice, so calm, so happy. They laugh together,
share a private joke. So intimate, when no-one around can even understand your
language. He catches my eye, we share a moment. Oddly, there is no tension,
just respect and a touch of wariness. Does he know me?
In this moment, I would give so much for a glimpse of his mind. Can he know
what I'm thinking?
I think I love you; stay together forever.