The Case of Two Strangers
Have you ever wondered why you meet an absolute strangerand they become the most intimate detail of your very being?
IITwo Strangers
Two strangers.
So distant that galaxies feel more like neighbors.
Like Mercury and Neptunesitting in a café,trying to figure out how they ended up at the same table.
“Wait, what? Are you sure your reservation is here, on Earth?”
The barista scratches his head.
“Look, do you have a problem with me being a customer of this size?”
“Hmm... What size?”
Mercury gives him a side-eye.
“Excuse me, you do realize we're the customers, right?”
Neptune.
A complete stranger.
Mercury smirksand leans back.
IIIThe Reservation
The barista checks his book.
Two names.
One table.
The ink begins to move,letters pushing and shovinglike they're trying to get through a crowded doorway.
Santa Monica.
Neither planet remembers making a reservation.
Somewhere,Love is wearing a fake mustacheand pretending to be a coincidence.
IVConversation & Music
Outside,the Pacific Ocean keeps throwing itself against the shorelike it has a personal problem with California.
The sun is halfway into the water,but keeps one eye above the surface.
Mercury talks.
Neptune listens.
One knows how to make a sentence confess.
The other has spent a lifetime keeping secrets.
A laugh escapes.
Another follows.
Their words bump into each other,apologize,then do it again.
Music drifts through the café.
Nobody remembers turning it on.
A melody wanders between their chairs,looking for somewhere to sit.
Mercury recognizes a note.
Neptune recognizes the next.
The song pulls up a chair.
VThe Listening Clock
Mercury starts telling him something.
Then stops.
Strange.
She remembers words.
Names.
Things people say when they think nobody is listening.
But this?
Nothing.
Neptune waits.
He doesn't finish her sentence.
The barista approaches.
Their coffee has gone cold.
He opens his mouth.
Closes it.
The clock above the counter has stopped.
Not broken.
Just listening.
VITomorrow
Mercury starts again.
Neptune leans closer.
Somewhere,Love removes its ridiculous mustache,folds it carefully,and slips out through the kitchen.
The barista returns to his book.
Two names.
One table.
He turns the page.
Tomorrow.
The same two names.
Next Thursday.
Another page.
A hundred years from now.
He looks up.
Mercury is laughing.
Neptune is laughing too.
The barista closes the book.
He has other customers.
Outside,the universe begins rearranging its furniture.