Along the red brick road, my boots made light, dull sounds: thump-thump, slowly, carefully, light as a feather with no weight to carry itself against the wind. Then the sound double and I looked back to a girl in a maroon coat. She had a black sling bag on her left should which moved forwards and backwards on the same rhythm as her jet-black hair. She was I, except she wore flats, walked faster, and had an undeniable certainty across her face. As we approached a pedestrian lane, she moved sideways, away from me. Shen then crossed the road and I slowed my pace so I could watch the parallelism: the two of us walking to the same direction along the opposite sides of the road. Her maroon coat glistened in the blue hour light and I marveled. At that moment I swore I was in love, or at the very least in a sensation similar. My full attention was captivated yet she seemed to not have a single clue I existed.
Nor should she.
We reached the end of the road and came as well to the denouement of our meet-cute as we each turned to the opposite directions: she to the left where a majestic church was about to hold mass; I to my apartment building where I left my responsibilities earlier in the day.
I held my hat as I glanced at her one last time. Her maroon coat as majestic as ever.
A quick piece I wrote just earlier this year. Had completely forgotten about it, until I checked my phone’s notes and there it was as well as cryptic messages from a past self regarding some vivid dreams. Apparently, I was a drummer for Paramore in one such dream. Their music is great but I’ve only listened to them a few times and never recently/within the year if I remember correctly. And honestly don’t really know much about their kind of music, only a bit of basic drumming.
So, what a dream, right?
I really wish to remember that again and I wonder why I don’t even when I was able to write about it.