You’re sitting at a table, your hands lying in your lap. Your head’s bobbing to music playing in your earphones and a small smile’s playing peek a boo on your face. One second it’s there, and the next it’s not. You’re short, just a few inches taller than me. Your ensemble’s black, pitch black, just a hoodie and a pair of skinny jeans. You’re terribly thin, but still slightly muscled. Your shoulders and neck are tense, you’re prepared for any surprise attacks. You keep looking over your shoulder and you shouldn’t. You’re safe, but I don’t think you know that. You must have gone through something terrible but you shouldn’t have. No one ever should.
You have hair so black it’s blue and the brownest eyes. Warm like hot chocolate on a cold winter night. Your eyes are saturated with emotion, wisdom, but you look so young. Those are eyes of people who’ve experienced it all and I’m scared for you.
I think you’re waiting for someone, you keep looking up at the entrance everytime the bell chimes. Could be a girlfriend, a boyfriend, there’s a sunflower in your hand, but I can’t be too sure, you can give flowers to anyone. You’re a writer, I can see calluses on the middle finger and thumb of your left hand, the one holding the flower. Oh wait, there’s a ring. You’re engaged. Congrats, I hope you have a happy married life, you deserve it.
The bell chimes and you look up again, a tall blond man walking in, a white coat on his shoulders. You smile at him and your whole face lights up. Your eyes shine at him with love and happiness and he walks towards you, a similiar look on his face. You stand up and he rushes into your arms, you’re falling back, but you grab onto the table and keep your balance. Your arms wrap around him and it’s clear it’s been some time since you’ve seen each other. Your head’s buried into his sweater and you both are laughing about how cheesy you look. I see the ring on his left hand and a smile creeps onto my face.
You look up and kiss him. You both are smiling too much and it’s perfect. You pull back reluctantly and say something. He replies, his smile becoming sadder and you hand him the flower. It’s a little brown by now, but his smile comes back to full brightness, his sky blue eyes shining with everything. He says something and laughs, a blush creeping on your cheeks. You shake your head and he presses his smile to your cheek. Your blush increases threefold and he laughs again, a joyful laugh. You’re both smiling so so much and I am so happy for you.
You both sit down and during the whole meal, you’re laughing and talking and kissing and your hands don’t leave the other’s, not even for a second. He fusses over a small papercut on your index finger and you’re so exasperated it’s hilarious. But there’s a fondness in your annoyance. He wraps the tip of your finger with a BandAid covered with suns. You sputter at the suns and spout out curse words in a foreign language, maybe Italian. He kisses the tip of your scrunched up nose and you sputter some more. He’s laughing and laughing about how you’re so adorable. You’re cursing at him in Italian and the scene’s so perfect. I sip my iced caramel latte and walk past your table, smiling at you. You look at me, confused and he smiles back, poking you to smile back at me. I laugh, saying it’s okay and leave.
It’s a dark world, and you’re strong enough to get through it, but if you fall down or stumble, he’ll help you up and this reassures me in more ways than one.