Chereads / Bitter Sunday / Chapter 3 - An Encounter

Chapter 3 - An Encounter

"Huh?" I replied, still unsure if she was talking to me.

"That book you're reading, it's one of my favorites."

"O-oh, well, we have a similar taste then," I replied while mechanically forming a smile on my lips.

Communication was never really my strong suit. For as long as I could remember, I always struggled to hold a conversation not just with strangers, even sometimes with people I know. maybe that is why nobody ever really strikes a conversation with me – that is why even this bit of interaction makes my heart beat a little faster.

"Do you usually read Murakami?" she asked, pulling me out of my thoughts.

"Well, this is my first one actually, I'm more of a Dazai guy."

Opening her cigarette pack and putting one in her mouth "Dazai, huh, I've heard a lot about his works, maybe I'll give it a try."

Before I could reply, she stood up from where she was sitting. Cigarette in mouth, she walked in my direction and stopped on the opposite side of my table.

"Do you have any lighter with you? Mine ran out of gas a while ago now," she asked with a gentle smile on her face.

I handed her my lighter. As she was lighting up her cigarette, I got to look at her feature closely. Her face was beautifully round, and she had a rather fair complexion, though underneath her almond eyes you could see eye bags started to take shape, indicating that she was a hard-working person – or one who just likes to stay up late.

"You could join me if you like," I blurted out suddenly. This was a strange gesture I thought, I was never one to have the confidence to initiate a conversation with anyone, yet there I was inviting a girl I just met to have a seat with me. Maybe It is because I know that it would be my last day walking the earth, and I wanted to have one last conversation with people.

"Sure!" she replied in a friendly tone, a tone that eases your guard. She then walked back to her own table where she grabs whatever things she had brought with her and put in on mine. While puffing away and staring at me with her soft gaze, she then asked "So, are you expecting anyone, or did you come here alone?"

"No, I came here alone. It's my habit to come here on weekends and spend some time alone with my book."

"We do have a similar taste," She said, smiling. "You know, this place is also one of my favorite coffee shops to go to. The simple design makes it comfortable enough to stay for a long time."

"The coffee is nice too, I know the owner, and she seems to put a lot of care into her products."

"Do you come here that often? It's a wonder that we've never bumped into each other before."

"Yeah, I do come here often to read my books or to work on my assignments, though I usually do it on Sundays because there are fewer people," I said, nodding to her.

"Oooh, so that's why. I usually come here on Saturday's, I like to come here with some of my friends too sometimes and most of them are free on Saturday," She replied while taking a sip from what looked like a vanilla latte.

Even though I already finished the book, I kept picking it up and flipping through the pages. Maybe because I was not used to being in the presence of a girl, alone in a coffee shop, and let alone one that I just met, that it made my social anxiety act up even more than usual. Then I put the book down on the table again and lit up another cigarette.

Letting out a sigh, she suddenly said "I wonder what it's like to be those birds," in a tiny voice as if she was saying it to herself.

The smoking area was placed in a sort of backyard place where there were trees around, and you could hear birds chirping. I shifted my eyes to where she was looking, up there on the trees I could see two birds sitting next to each other, then a moment later they flew away. I looked back to her eyes, finding that she was still fixated on the place where the birds sat. somehow in her eyes, I could see a sense of longing.

Looking at the tower of books and papers now on the table I finally broke the silence by asking her "Are you working on something? it looks like you brought the whole library with you."

"Oh yeah, I've been working on this research paper for days now. It's supposed to be a group project, but it feels like I'm the only one doing anything!" she said, blushing, embarrassed that she had let out emotion. "By the way, you got a gentle tone, I like that. It's rare for boys to have such a gentle tone these days, most of them always make their voice rougher to seem more masculine, I don't get that at all."

Not knowing how to answer I smiled at her while lighting up another cigarette. Sitting there with her alone somehow created a peaceful atmosphere – it was as if we had been thrown into another dimension, where there existed nothing but us. Her presence brought a warm and welcoming feeling that made you feel at home, a feeling that felt I had never experienced before unless I was reading a book, the kind that made me think sitting with her in that coffee shop is the most natural thing. It was peculiar I thought, I barely even know her.

"Do you need a hand with your work there?" I asked. "I've got nothing better to do anyway, and I've finished my book."

She lifted her hands from the keyboard and she cast her gaze back at me "You're one good Samaritan aren't you," she replied, smiling as she puffed the smoke out of her mouth. "If you aren't careful, people are going to take advantage of you, you know."

"Nah, it's alright. I genuinely want to help you. It looks like you're drowning there."

After that, I proceeded to help her with the assignment. Mostly my role was assisting her in searching for articles or other data that she needed for her research paper. While doing so, it occurred to me that this was probably the only time where I genuinely wanted a person to rely on me. In school, and even in college, most of the people who did rely on me only did so because they think I was easy to manipulate. There has never been a time where I really enjoyed lending out my hand for another person. Again, I thought what a peculiar feeling that was. Every emotion that I never felt, all the experience that I never got a chance to feel, now appears before me as I was interacting with a stranger on my last day of living. "It's such a cruel joke," I thought to myself.