August 1, 2014

That wasn’t the first time I saw him sitting down on a bench at that park near my house. I had been seeing him sometimes reading a book, sometimes a pair of headphones plugged in his ears, and sometimes he’d bring his guitar. He, that man, who I didn’t know his name yet, would always wear a pair of worn out jeans and a black shirt. Either he only had one shirt or a closet full of black shirt, I didn’t know. But today was different, and that had made my assumption on him gone when I saw him wearing a grey shirt. Lighter color, I thought.

That day, I decided to sit down on another bench not far from him. Even I tried to be invisible; I made an effort to steal a glance at him. I took out a novel from my bag but I didn’t read that. Instead, looking at the skyline until the sun set down and disappeared. Just when the sky turned from orange to dark blue, I fixed my eyes at the man once again.

And he was looking at me.

So did we stare at each other for a moment until I heard my phone rang and that was my cue to leave and unfortunately broke our eye contact.