Little, I know!
Stranger, he is to me. To her too, I guess. They are sharing the same bench, under the pink cherry blossom tree. I examine their body , language and their body language through my eyes, which is at the perfect angle to gaze from. The hopeless romantic in me says, strangers who meet at park in these setup are actually set up by cupid to fall in love. At the end of the day, its all setup, ain’t it?
I’m waiting for them to make a move . She seems to be a rigorous reader with “Kafka on the Shore ” in her hands. She has an extremely good fashion sense of matching her outfit with the cover of her book. Red is her skirt and black is her shoe. He is adjusting his headphones, every time she adjusts her spectacles. Coincident or signals, it beats me. He adjusts his headphones as if he wants this music all to himself. Just to him, all to him. She adjusts her spectacles as if she wants to read them all. Just for her, all to her.
She wears a long hair, as the wind blow it slightly gets directed to his neck. Ticklish, for him, I assume. I notice them refusing to acknowledge these dots as if they don’t want to connect them, at all. Mysterious ways people find harmony in.
Are they really strangers? I ask myself again to confirm the comfort I see between them in that 1.5 meter bench. I look at my watch, I need to rush. This romance in the air will still be mystery to me, so I ask Cupid, “ Hey, next time you shoot, can you shoot them as well?”
