They speak of tales that spins the wheels of individual perception. Those damn passer-by that cast eyes of judgment, making you feel smaller than what you are. I squeeze your hand. Stamping my presence, asserting my protective nature, ensuring you know that I am still here. There were no facial changes, not a single response. All I have, as a reaction, was the continuous steps that we took that were in sync.

It is fine. This is fine. There will always be the laws of majority. The power in strength, the stubborn bravery of the minority who wishes to fight, it is just life. We are fine. My eyes begin to shift. The hands of insecurity making my own perspire.

Then we sit.  You drinking a nice cool passion fruit ice blend. In front of me was my cup of tea. I breathe in. The faint smell of my Earl Grey greets me. I smiled. You smiled back. I’m content. In fact, I am happy. You begin to chat. Talking about your day. Speaking about all the happenings that had occurred when I wasn’t able to hold your hand. Some stories were more entertaining but still I listened to them all.

Letting you speak, watching you elaborate, go into the details, skip to the events, digress from a topic to the next, your ever wondering ways, make my insides flutter. Hearing you speak this freely is exciting and keeps my heart beat at that comfortable pace.

Suddenly the phone rings, a lousy monotone plays and disrupts my happy place. I reach out for my phone. Without looking at it, I shut it. You didn’t seem to be bothered by it however you were getting a little softer. The birds by the café’s window increased a little in volume. I need a shortgun.

I heaved a sigh. Looking at the cold surface of my phone, I switched the alarm off. Facing that fat bird that had made the window edge its opera stage, I picked up my ‘finger pistol’ and fired thrice.

Bang, bang, bang.

The bird barely paid any attention to my childish act. It continues. Like a true professional, abiding to the codes of ‘the show must go on.’ A hand runs through my fingers. Once done, it stays by my side. I heaved a sigh. If only déjà vu was going to be part of my life instead of a part of world that I so happen to reside in.