There was one night inside the bookstore – the red carpet that silenced shoes, the tangerine walls where the musings of Virginia Woolf were printed on and the 4-step staircase on the way to the the coffee shop. Tonight could even be written as my own “Six Characters in Search of an Author.” I was an actor in my own play with my greatcoat and my jeans. I wore the same jeans during our first Valentine here. But today was not for Valentines. We were supposed to meet by 8PM, It wasn’t for dates. It was already 9 when she came along.
*No words spoken*
I began. “8PM eh?”
Still no words from her. She was with an albino tonight. I knew him and I stared up at his eyes not because I am subjugating myself to his Orientalist gaze but rather I am watching my own film play inside of me three weeks ago. That was when I first saw him.
She handed me the gadget that I was after. The one that I bought because she didn’t have the money and I did. She believed in God and I didn’t. She told me to remain faithful but she didn’t.
I had a plastic bag that day. It was sitting in front of me on the low table like it was my uncredited date. If it was a date though, she would be barging in. The barista on our right seemed to notice her standing. This was like the play in my head earlier.
I said again. “Take these back.”
Finally, “Why should I?”
“I’m not the one taking those back.”
And then she took my “date” away. It was hers after all. All of it was hers so it seemed perfectly right to return her belongings and the other trash that I used to consider as gifts. She left the stage afterwards.
I went to the barista. He was staring at me. If you remember the scene in Scarface where Al Pacino makes a fool of himself inside a restaurant that is how the barista stared at me. I paid him for my tea and left with the words: “That’s all folks.”
11th of June, 2014. 10:30AM (DXB)
Writing 101, Day Seven: Give and Take