A (Too) Breif Encounter.

I stuck around. For the first time…I was unable to leave. And not for a connection to a place, but a person. Another human being; and oddly enough one I have never met and know so little about. I wanted to stay, and take back the part of me I left behind…for I did not desire to leave this place, or you. So of course, I knew where to find you.

 

This morning I headed back to the footpath where I left my necklace. I had gathered from the quick responses of your emails that it wouldn’t take you long. I moved towards the place; I saw you, and you glanced up at me. My pace quickened…I could not make out your identity, besides to say that you greatly resembled the man who so forcefully grabbed my attention way back at the ship and shovel…and the trench coat. You wore it again…my trenched secret man. I could only assume you did so on a whim; just in case I was there to see you. You went as fast as you had come. The moment lasted but the blink of an eye. I panicked.

 

I saw your coat whip round the corner, flurried by the wind, and I ran. I did not stop, I knew not how to stop – I was so intensely compelled to meet you. Not that I would have had any inkling of what to say or how to feel…words would have been unnecessary, redundant. Perhaps it is because I have never felt such intensity before….or even really felt at all…but I simply could not let you escape my clutches this time. The tables had turned; you began the hunt for me and I will finish it by hunting you. You are more real to me than anything I have known…a ludicrous notion I realize, as we have shared no words or expressions, not even a place. Who would have thought that something so cold, so isolated and shielding as a computer screen could inflict such feelings upon an unsuspecting me. And you, Rune, I suspect…

But I can only get closer by running from you.

 

I turned the corner and you were gone. Out of sight…but seared into my mind. I have begun to question whether you ever really existed. Have I simply spent so much time on my own that I have forged a fictional character with whom to connect? Perhaps I can only truly commit to myself….or extensions of myself…realities which exist only for a moment before subsequently drifting with the wind into my subconscious, never to be seen again. And then, did I really spend a romantic few days with Anton? And is the name and number on a stained and yellowing old coaster really that of Tom, the bartender….or merely another, less appealing figment of my imagination…

 

The past few weeks have formed a blur. I think I shall find myself a nice, cold bench…not too dissimilar to my cold hard bed at home, the stark sheets obsessively neat –they have been that way for days – in the middle of a cold, dark and empty room which lends nothing to the imagination. I still have a couple of hours until my flight…I could use a short rest. It has been an endlessly frantic few weeks. It is 6pm, dinner time….oh yes I can hear mother calling; always the same time everyday. Her routines drive me insane.

 

Until next time.

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