Two strangers in the quick food aisle

Literary psychological fiction

Out in the vast ocean, my lethargic bones are lying on a water mat. My eyes are open. I look towards the light blue sky.

It makes me think of Dolce & Gabbana Light Blue.

I touch my round necklace. My lucky coin. Then I hear the water dripping from my hair, near my ears. Little droplets slide down my wet neck until reaching the hot purple plastic of my mat and unifying with other droplets. Creating bigger droplets.

Makes me think of lemon mints.

For how long can someone stay like this with an empty mind?

I wonder.

What was that about earlier at breakfast? Pearlie’s comment was out of the ordinary completely. Jacob was out all day yesterday, and he still hasn’t come back (my allegedly boyfriend that is). And then she suddenly decides to say that if the stars were aligned perfectly, some people would still not see eye to eye. And she looked at me while saying it, fast as if I was just in her field of sight while saying it, and that’s the only reason why she looked at me.

I bet she’d say that she didn’t even realize where she was looking. That she was absorbed by her inner thoughts, and then she’d start telling me how we should be in touch with ourselves more.

Anyway.

I don’t know where the fuck Jacob is, and I’m thinking about this woman. How curious.

Is it that I don’t care enough to worry? I thought about it quite often, but I didn’t feel that nod of anxiety in my stomach, like when other people that I cared about had told me something I wasn’t prepared to hear. Or have gone missing.

Have you ever had someone go missing?

It’s a strange feeling. I didn’t even know if I liked Jacob. Now I’m left with this.

Another thought to ponder the walls of my brain left, right and up in circles.

I met Jacob at a 7/11, we both got a cup of noodles, the same brand, same flavor. We turned to each other and smiled. I went on, and he said, “Big plans tonight?”

I instinctively said “Oh yes. I have a new series I’m binging. Wouldn’t miss it for anything.” but I didn’t care really. I didn’t even take a good look at him because I genuinely wasn’t interested in men at that point.

I was busy at my job, and happy to be. Home was cozy, my friends were few and the right ones. I was as content as one could be. I even told myself daily that I have everything I want. And I did.

– “Well…”

Well. That well stopped me, even though I was planning to slowly keep moving.

– Well?

I could tell that was his cue to know that he got my interest by how his upper lip lifted just slightly. Even though that was the first moment I looked at him for real. He was handsome to say the least. I didn’t know what was wrong with me. Like, I took a look at that face and then decided to leave? Ok, I’m thinking this now, while I’m here on the edge of an ocean. But back then, I just nodded and said that he looked nice.

Like my vg was numb or something. On yellow light, probably.

– I like binging.

The fact that he didn’t continue after that made my smile silly. Like, he was really genuine.

– Well, what do you know. Two people like binging.

– Two attractive people started binging a series together.

– Ohh. Uhum. Two attractive people learn how to form sentences.

– Isn’t that beautiful?

– What is? Small talk?

– I wouldn’t call it small talk.

We were now the only ones on the quick pre-made stuff aisle and surroundings.

– What would you call it then?

– A real and honest conversation.

– A real one would be if you’d find out something meaningful about me

– I think not every moment needs to be that meaningful. It can get overrated sometimes. We just are.

And that made me smile, and a few goosebumps rolled up through my skin. We walked together on the aisle and paid for our noodle cups. I didn’t want to climb in his car, so he hopped in mine, and we chatted for about 20 minutes (super interesting, not boring at all), then, because I felt like an hourglass and my sand was sinking in the other half, I decided to go home and talk tomorrow. I remembered an important rule — don’t give out too much too quickly. We exchanged numbers.

We both took our cars and ran into the night.

He had amazing white teeth and plump lips. Like pillows.

A week in, we were exchanging messages, but I bet you want to know what his first message to me was. I know I’m always curious about that when I hear stories.

It was this:

What are you binging? You didn’t tell me.

Why?

I’ll watch with you.

What if you hate it?

Then I’ll hate it.

It’s Bridgerton.

Then a pause. He sent me a pic that he was already on the movie preview.

No.

Yes.

You presumed?

Me? Never. Just a wild guess.

Noodles done?

Of course, all prepared.

Ok, hit play.

Play.

Play.

And it was all a fun game, until now. Really, he showed no signs of escapism or troubled inner thoughts, nothing. But in the past two to three weeks, we started arguing repeatedly over the same topics.

I really wanted to come here, in Bora Bora, and he didn’t. He had a merging at work, and it was taking up all his time. The mental space you need for these things just wasn’t there.

The reason we argued so much is because of the constant sensation that lingered near me, like someone would hit your head with an annoying balloon day in and out.

There was something more, another reason why he wouldn’t want to come with me on this trip.

And it may be the same reason he’s gone missing now, and I’m lying on this water mat, watching the light blue sky.

Part 2 coming soon.

Originally posted on Medium