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You're in the city again, but only because you need to do some much needed shopping.

It's not as if you're hoping to see that strange guy from yesterday. Nope. Definitely not.

You really do need to buy some clothes. Some new ones, that is. 

Although you do hope you'll meet that guy again. Maybe ask him why he was doing such an extemporaneous thing, whether he does that all the time, and if not, will he do it again? The chances of your seeing him are slim. Meeting strangers a second time is close to impossible. 

Not that you're in the city because your interest has been piqued. Nope. Definitely not.

And yet you find your feet guiding you to the city square where he had disturbed the augural evening. You find yourself staring at the spot he had done those push ups, and find yourself reminiscing at his broad shoulders, those strong arms. You hadn't even gotten a chance to clearly view his face. But you want to see him again. Somehow. Eventually. You want to meet him, and ask him why he had decided to do something so radical. 

There's just something about the unpredictability of that moment that makes him so intriguing.

It's weird. For the first time in a long time, you're actually excited to be in the city. To be doing anything, really. Normally, you'd get so caught up in labeling things in life as banal that you'd miss the littlest details. Every day, you'd prefer to stay home and lounge around, reading books or idly using your laptop for no specific reason. That was your regime. You had grown used to it and complained about its monotony, but you had never done anything to alter your schedule. That's just how it was. There are just some things that people don't bother to change, no matter how much they want change to occur. That's what makes humans such complicated beings.

Your stomach grumbles in protest. You take out your phone to look at the time and realize that it's already past lunch. You had been so immersed in your search for the stranger that you hadn't even taken note of your hunger. Scanning the streets for a place you can drop by to purchase some food to eat, you spot a store a few blocks away. You hurry forward, wondering why you've never seen this restaurant before. Is it new? It doesn't look new. Or maybe it is new, and is just made to look antique. It looks suspicious, now that you've gotten a closer look at it. The windows aren't clean, and the door is peeling with paint. 

Well, you might as well go inside. If you won't like it, you can simply leave.

You pull open the door and are greeted with a distinctive smell of a variety of spices. Small stools border raised tables, where people holding chopsticks eat noodles or meat served to them in clean, white platters. 

There's a location in the middle of the restaurant where tables form a square, bordering a mini kitchen where the customers can watch the chefs cook their food. You decide that you might as well experience this eating situation and take a seat at one of the counters. You look up as a chef approaches you, a wide smile on his face.

"Hi!" He greets you. "Menu is there," he says, pointing to the folder in front of you. "Do you want anything to drink?"

"Oh ... water," you say quickly, and he walks away. You flip through the pages of the menu, scanning the unusual food choices. You've never heard of any of these before. What could you possibly choose?

The chef comes back with your drink, and you point at one of the entrees to him, asking, "How is this ... uh, spicy seafood noodle soup? Is that r