Tucked behind a corner booth table I caught a glimpse of a lonely shadow lingering in a vacant corner. Immediately my attention was drawn to an unfamiliar face with a tortured sort of composure. Had I not found the courage to recite a friendly greeting an opportunity would have been missed. 

I sat with my back against the wall, the taste of stale coffee on my tongue

My thoughts ran back and forth with possible ideas I could display, each one far more absurd than the last. 

Scattered conversation carried through the air as I waited for my soul to catch inspiration.

Without much effort I wrote a few lines on the back of a crumpled napkin, each verse depicted this similar scene. 

His coffee remained untouched, possibly cold, I wondered how long he’d been seated in that particular spot before I took notice. I tried to keep my glances short and minimal, but this was difficult because I’d never seen anyone appear so lonely. 

His eyes stared out the window, not once did I witness him blink, just an empty stare remaining in place. His jaw was clenched tightly and He wore a knit hat, navy blue and I tried to imagine what he looked like without it. 

Feeling rather stalker-like, I stopped my consistent stares and shook the imagination from my brain. 

Sometimes you get a gut feeling that won’t dissolve and I felt myself giving in to that self proclaimed notion. 

Turning my head towards his direction once more I considered what one might do. His head was now resting against the vinyl fabric, eyes still focused on something beyond the glass. 

I asked the waitress for a second mug as she poured me another nonessential cup of coffee. The steam masked my face.

Acting on impulse I left my corner and followed suit over to his table. Without an invitation I sat down quietly, pushing the mug closer to him, casually sliding the napkin underneath.

I blankly stated “You’ve been here a while. Your coffee is probably cold.”  His eyes met mine and briefly I felt I’d made a mistake until he spoke. It was only a “Thanks.” But his voice was warm and slightly confused. He lifted the mug to his lips, his brown eyes never leaving mine. It was oddly refreshing to be sharing such awkwardness with another human being. We spent a few moments in muted conversation. It seemed unnecessary to share so much in this little amount of time anyway, I already felt as if I’d learned enough.  

“Thank you.” He mumbled a second time as he reached for his hat, tossing it onto the table. I was shocked to find my imagination was far off, a deep shade of chestnut covered his ears, messy and between washes. I’ll admit I was pleasantly disappointed. 

He shared with me his song of sorrow and of all the events that took place beforehand, I never had to ask, stories just fled from his lips. Silence fell around us, the tips of my fingers traced lines of sugar across the table's surface. 

He broke through the quietude with “I'm sorry if I’ve wasted your time.” 

“I hardly consider getting to know you a waste of time.” He smiled unconvinced. 

The sky was turning a darker hue by the minute, so I felt the need to kindly excuse myself. The door seemed so far away yet I managed to exit in seconds without looking back until I reached the sidewalk which earlier he’d been so focused on. I paused. There he was still seated inside, in his hands was a crumpled up napkin with words written so strongly expressed I couldn’t bring myself to reveal what they read. He grinned as he stuffed the napkin deep into his coat pocket, turning towards the window once more, He gave me a nod. In response I did the same. 

First meetings are strange, you never know what the outcome will be and as the affair unravels so does the curiosity. The conversation plays out in your brain like an episode of reality t.v. though unlike reality t.v. Your introduction comes without a script. As I stepped away from the sidewalk I had another self proclaimed notion; This would not be the last of our meetings here.