Wednesday, January 26

There's a light that never goes out

I intended to write this in Spanish, but I'm running out of words in Spanish to describe what I actually mean...
Tuve toda la intención de escribir esto en español, pero no encuentro las palabras para lo que quiero decir...

I love rainy days. Sky's grey enough not to burn my eyes, it feels like someone has turned the sun off. And this is great, I'm really not that fond of the sun  -even though I was named after it. 
I love it when people wander around under their umbrellas (which doesn't seem bother me at all for they do not bump me on the head like they do in average-height people's heads). I love the funny noise of the car wheels against the wet asphalt. I love the humidity and low atmospheric pressure feeling upon my head. I even like my frizzy hair. I'd say, if it wasn't summer, this would be my perfect kind of day.

For that reason, I was particulary happy today when arriving at the office, and I decided to make this day even more enjoyable by stopping by for a coffee at Starbucks. There were few people at the store, some of them reading, others just chit chatting with friends/boyfriends/girlfriends/sons/daughter. I approached the counter and ordered a tall americanno w/skimmed milk and 1 extra shot. Since I was there, I also bought one carrot cake (i'm really into these lately).

I paid (as expected) and just leaned on a column, waiting for the Starbucks guy to yell my name so I could get going - I was already 30 min late. 
Next minute, my mobile phone starts ringing. 
The important thing here is not who was calling, but the sound of my ringtone. Actually, I didn't pick up the phone (that's a drawback of choosing your favourite song as your default ringtone: you don't want to talk but to listen to it). 

"There is a light that never goes out". Probably one of the Smiths' greatest songs. I didn't pick up, as I said. I was just there, ignoring the missing-call-to-be and huming the lyrics. When I happened to look up the floor, there was a guy, 3 mt away, staring at me. Not looking - staring.

He was wearing a worn-out jean, and a Sex Pistols' shirt. Black Converse, and that's pretty much all I can tell about his outfit. He had black hair, and kind, beautiful grey eyes (charcoal grey, to be more precise). I could sense by his look that he also liked The Smiths, or that he liked the fact that I did. Anyhow, we were somehow "bounded" by the greatest song of The Queen's Dead album.

So, he was cute. Really cute. I could really see myself having a coffee with him, just hanging around for a while. I kept on staring at him, and smiled. And he smiled me back. This went on for, hm.. 10 minutes, approximately. Non stop.

Anyone could tell he was into me, even I could (and, to put it this way, I'm not really.. perceptive). Eleven minutes of constant eye contact and "smile-flirting" had gone by when he stood up, still looking at me straight in the eyes. He came forward.
Soon enough he had done so, I wired myself to my iPod. He stopped himself in his tracks. I could almost read 3 simple letters popping up inside his head: "WTF?!"

I can tell this might seem irrational but, making eye-contact and smiling at him with love, passion, comprehension.. that was all I needed. I knew he was a great guy, probabbly musician, liked to play rugby, and enjoyed having late night beers with friends. He admired his father, and only wore ties for weddings and funerals. I was already aware of his taste for The Smiths, and probably other British bands came along with that (besides the Sex Pistols). He might have had his heart broken by a thin-as-a-rack red-haired girl whose biggest love was crack. He must have had a golden retriever, and he sucked at Maths. He was on Facebook, but not on Twitter. But that's it. We will never have a coffee togather, and we will never go on vacations to the South or go to grab some dinner on a Saturday night. I'll probably never meet his family nor his golden retriever. That was just not ment to be.

We were still stading 1 mt apart. Still looking into each others eyes, I was huming another song this time (Irish Bood, English Heart.. you can tell the similarities with the first one, right?). I was still smiling at him, he must've noticed I was truly happy to have him there, in front of me. His expression was that of a stranded person, someone who just doesn't get what's happening. Confused, puzzled. Yes, that's it, puzzled. Myself, I was just happy. My coffee was ready, so I gabbed it. I looked at him for the very last time and thought that if it shall be, it will be. If not, I could do with that. He had somehow made my day even better.

I'm almost sure he'll never read this, but if he does, here's something to you: follow love and it will flee, flee love and it will follow.
I'm not looking for love, though. But I believe you do, I could tell for the anguish in your eyes. I prefer to.. keep it simple.