A Chance Encounter

5:27 PM, At the Cafeteria.

Have you ever had the feeling that you were drowning in voices? A similar feeling happens when you’re in a cafeteria like this, half filled, a quiet cacophony surrounding you. Noise, of which every part makes sense, but together, it’s just mingled voices, with no beginning and no end. I see people scattered in chairs all around me, a uniform like the particles of air. Some are sitting with other people, and some are alone. Alone? Not really, everyone is half drowning into the black mirror in their palms. A magical slab of glass and plastic and sand, that never lets you feel abandoned.

One of these humans catches my eye. A girl — because, why not — is sitting near the window. What grabs the attention is not her beauty, of course, that would be too normal. She has on a hairband with a positively giant cloth flower on one side. No really, believe me, it’s almost half the size of her whole head. The hair band keeps frilly black hair in place. She is holding a cup in her left hand, I’m guessing it’s tea, or coffee. I don’t see her putting the cup down on the table. Left handed? I think not. Her right hand is just as busy as mine. I know I’m scribbling words on a piece of paper, and she, likewise is guiding the tip of a pen on a sheet of her own. Though her strokes are just a little too long to be letters.

A curiosity sparks in me, I want to know what she is writing about. More than once, I see her glance around, just like I had been doing a few minutes ago. But these incidents are brief and most of the time, I see her intently gazing at the sheet in front of her. I do feel like a creep, ogling at someone who might be doing something I have no business trying to know. And yet, I'm drawn to the movements of her hand. I am pretty sure she’s sketching something. An artist then, nice!

The next time I look at her, I find her smiling. She seems pleased with what she had captured on paper. I see her look at me as she gets up from her chair. Oops, the lady instinct that can detect when someone is looking at them has kicked in. I quickly look away, and in lack of a better target, I go back to the sheet in front of me. My verbal composition of this assumed artist would be incomplete today. But I have no regrets, it was an interesting few minutes.

I don’t dare look up again to see if she’s gone. But a couple minutes later, a silhouette falls on my table and doesn’t move. And a few seconds later, a soft voice speaks.

“Hi, excuse me!” I look up to see the same girl standing beside my desk. “Sorry to disturb you, I just — I made this sketch, I thought you were a writer, and I have always wanted to sketch a writer, so — what do you think?” she hands me an A4 size sheet of hard paper. In it, I see myself in monochrome, sketched in a film noir style.

I fumble with my words for a second before catching myself. Then I let out a short laugh. I look at her to see that she’s very confused and I see a flash of anger. “This is — wow — actually, I think I have something for you too. I have been writing about you as well, so — what do you think?” I said, handing her the little A5 sized notepad I had been writing on.

Author's Note:

Chance encounters are a reality. Maybe not as exciting as this one, but they do occur, and they do leave imprints on all those who are involved. So, keep your eyes open, and stay alert, the world around us is inherently very interesting. And if this little moment has left an imprint on your thoughts, please leave a feedback below, and who knows, maybe it will start a new line of thought and may even prove to be another chance encounter.

Photo by Leonhard Niederwimmer on Unsplash.