Open Letter to The One
We’ll never know what could have been
I saw you the moment I entered the coffee shop. You sat at the bar-like counter that runs along half the length of the store, behind which baristas rustle up various combinations of coffee. You were working on your laptop, typing at a leisurely pace, your eyes scanning the screen with each word you entered. I smiled to myself. I like people who type at an unhurried pace. Mostly because I’m not one of them.
After a rather strenuous shopping spree at the mall, I brought my aunt to the coffee shop. We got a table for her to sit at while I joined the queue to place an order. You looked up and caught my eye. A smile slowly crept across your face. I like to think it was a response to the grin on mine. I felt embarrassed and looked away. You didn’t.
I reached the cashier, placed my order, and walked over to wait at the delivery area, three bar stools away from you. I leaned forward at the counter while you continued to smile at me. I eventually turned towards you and acknowledged your smile by smiling back. At that point, you struck up a conversation with one of the baristas. Maybe it was so that I could hear your voice. It was a nice deep voice. Very soothing. The barista seemed keen to chat with you, but duty called, and he excused himself to make a rather complicated order that happened to be mine.
I watched you talk the entire time, and you knew it. You smiled to yourself and went back to work. A few minutes later, you heard them shout my name, and you looked up to see me collect my tray of goodies and walk back to my table.
I sat at the table where my aunt was waiting and sat down with my back to you. With each sip of coffee, my anxiety teetered on edge and prevented me from turning around. My mind wandered helplessly — Is he still looking at me? Does he want to talk to me? Should I slip him a napkin with my number on it? Will it be like in the movies? Will he call me or will he throw the napkin in the bin? Will he slip me a napkin with his number on it?
My phone rang and pulled me back to reality. I had finished my coffee in a stupor and mindlessly eaten some chilli cheese toast.
We got up and walked towards the exit. You were still there. You looked me straight in the eye and said, “Excuse me. I just wanted to say that I love the sweater you are wearing. The colour and the design.” I blushed, smiled and was about to say something when my aunt stepped forward to look at who was talking to me. I nearly died. I mumbled, “Thank you. It is from Uniqlo.” I don’t know why I told you that. It was plain nerves.
We walked out, and I felt your eyes on me. I fought the urge to turn back. In the car on the ride home, I decided to return to the coffee shop soon. If you sat there to work, you probably lived close by. I was determined to see you again.
It has been over a month since that day, and I haven’t seen you at the coffee shop; I’ve only been back once. Maybe you’ve come on other days hoping to see me too.
Maybe we will see each other again, serendipitously. Maybe, you’ll have the nerve to strike up a conversation that has nothing to do with sweaters. Hopefully, I’ll be alone when you do.
See you soon,
Girl in the grey sweater with the snowflake
