Friday, March 11, 2016

Of Lady Strange and Irish Coffee...

Dear stranger,

I don't mean to sound strange, but I must compliment you on how delightful you are to look at. The high stool that you're sitting on is doing wonders. Even the semi-bright backdrop of the gardens works in your favour, because you are an exquisite silhouette. You hold your head straight, supported by an elegant slim neck, flowing downwards to the neat arc of your back, rounding off at the seat in your subtle but well shaped derriere. Whoever invented those 'pencil skirts' did us a huge favour. Even while sitting, the skirt terminates right above your knees, caressing that tender flesh like butter on bread. You've rested your heel on the foot-rest of the stool, with the stilletto heel dangling in the air. You rock your foot back and forth, highlighting toned calf muscles. You must be taking good care of yourself, girl. Good for you indeed.  You sit there, with your dainty little fingers gently stroking the screen of your phone, prompting a few laughs from you time and again. It's not a boisterous laugh. It's more like a chuckle, with your wonderful white teeth flashing and your mouth just barely open. They must have trained you on how to be polite and carry yourself with class.

I know we've never met, but you've been alive in my mind for the whole time you've been sipping on your Sprite. I saw the frustration on your face when the waiter initially brought you a Krest. I would have been disappointed too. It's not like you had asked him to bring a 'soda in a green bottle'. But, people make mistakes and you realized that mid-rant. It's one of the things I've liked about you. Your big, kind eyes are not just for occasionally stopping my heart. Your full and vivacious eyelashes are not just to send waves of desire in my direction. I've been enjoying watching how you delicately flick your hair to the side while you prepare to take your numerous selfies. Oh wait, I didn't accidentally appear in the background of one of them, did I?

It's almost unfair for someone to look as remarkable as you do. But hey, if the Irish coffee has already kicked in, you might be a figment of my imagination. Lo, just as I'm about to pinch myself, you ease off the stool, whisper something to the waiter next to you, and start walking towards me.

When you spin and walk, it's like time around me has slowed down tremendously. You're surprisingly light on your feet and comfortable in heels. As you sashay towards me, I feel like my heart has stopped and I'm staring at an angel. You cast a glance at me, over your shoulder as you walk by, and I can see the mesmerizing splendour in your eyes.

You glide past me like the total stranger that I am, but before my shoulders can fall with resignation, the calming scent of jasmine wafting in the slipstream of your path lifts me right up. I almost absentmindedly rise out of my seat to glide along with you. I'm stopped in my tracks by the sudden clatter of crockery as I accidentally bumped the table on my way up. Thankfully, by that time you've disappeared around the corner and I have little embarrassment to concern myself with.

I come to my senses eventually, and realize that your table is empty. The waiter even took away the Sprite bottle and is now preparing the table for another customer. I cannot afford to have my memory tainted.

I'm glad to have spent the afternoon basking in your delightful company. Now that my coffee's done, I can leave, hoping to see you again one day. Maybe then I'll actually talk to you instead of playing out scenarios in my mind. If not, at least I'll have this blog post to remember you by.

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