An Accidental Afternoon

I see myself one fall day just committing myself to an afternoon of solitary studying where I run away to a quaint coffee shop in a remote area of town, far from my usual stomping grounds and social circles, and just sitting with my books, and my music and my musings. And perhaps a few hours into my serenity, He'll walk into my secret escape. I'll notice Him first before He'll notice me, and I know I'll blush and look back down at my readings, but it won't be long before I'll venture another glance, and when I do, that's when He'll notice me and catch me looking.

I'll blush again, and as my eyes will dart nervously around the shop for another place to gaze, He will smile easily in comfortable recognition and I'll know it's okay to make eye contact with Him once more. After He will finish buying his steaming mug of coffee He'll make His way over to where I am, nod at the empty seat across from me, and wait for my nod before sitting down. He'll have a pile of papers to match my pile of books, and though we both have much to get done, we'll still risk what precious time we have to talk.

He'll ask me about my books, and I'll take my time to tell Him without having to worry about showing an interest in His papers--I'll already know what they're from, and He'll know that I know. We'll avoid the common ground and just talk about what we've never discussed before; hobbies, past-times, favourites, experiences, anectdotes, and our shared passion for the written word.

The afternoon will drain into evening as the sun sets through the window next to our table. The minutes will stretch into hours and our coffees will be forgotten as the warmth we initially sought in those mugs will be refreshingly found elsewhere. Smiles and laughter will pass easily in the air between us as legs will bump accidentally under the table, and phones will be casually ignored and turned off as arms will brush more and more comfortably on top.

Oblivious to the world outside the realm of the table piled with books and papers, we'll carry on until politely interrupted by the shopkeeper who will reluctantly bring our attention to the time--reluctantly because he will recognize the kind of conversation blossoming between us. The two of us will quickly gather our things and exit the place together, pausing for a moment in the brisk autumn air on the step outside; I will wait to see which way He will walk in order to perhaps follow Him some ways down the street. A smile will break across my lips and His as we will realize that He will be waiting for the same reason--we will mutually decide to walk my direction.

Our conversation will continue as our walk takes us lopingly in the direction I will need to go at that time. With the excuse that both of us will be carrying a burden, our pace will be a crawl along the street--the puffs of mist our breaths will make will disappear even before we have the chance to walk through them--so slow our walk will be. Having left the haven of that shop, I will be sad to be aware that our accidental time together is drawing to a close. He will be aware of it too.

Finally comes the moment we will have to part ways. My nervousness which will have melted bravely away for the better of the day, will return and I will find it so hard to look into His eyes to say goodbye. He will still have that easy smile about His lips, but now even He will have to look down in search of words to say. Up until that afternoon, that accidental meeting, the only proof of chemistry will have been glances held a little too long, a little too charged, but not enough to be anything but a fantasy in my mind and His. But after that accidental afternoon, there will too much proof of chemistry to be ignored anymore; what might have existed simply as fantasy before, will prove itself as fact. Neither of us will know what to say. Instead of words, we will share one more longingful look--like the ones we will already be accustomed to--and without an utterance, things between us will be understood to be as they once were before, until the next time we will find each other away from everyone else. Until our next accidental afternoon.