I saw him every day, every morning, at the same time, in the same place, and that’s how it all started. That’s how I finally saw the daylight.

My life was easy, very routinely, always predictable. Somehow, one could use the word boring to describe me and I wouldn’t oppose it. That was just how my life was—simple.

There were times, rare times, I craved excitement. But that never lasted for long. I just wanted to be. I just wanted to exist. It didn’t matter how, for as long as I know, I was alive.

I existed for myself and my day always started with never snoozing my alarm. I always got up on time, showered for thirty minutes, put on the same make-up for ten minutes, fixed my hair neatly, and finally left for work just in time to walk for twenty minutes to the office.

I was never late. I was never too early. I was always just on time. If I missed a minute, then my life wouldn’t be so routinely.

I did this all. Everyday. Predictable. Organized. But well. I lived well.

Everything’s the same, all simple yet fun, until a new routine came. And it was a person.

He was a stranger. With navy slacks, sleek white long sleeves, leather belt and shoes, he became familiar. Those same shirt, those same shoes, and that same look in his eyes. His blonde hair looked the same until today. It became my favorite color.

And it had been three months. Over a million people in the city, and there were twenty-four hours in a day, and it was in this place, in this time, in this lifetime, that we got to see each other every day.

I always wanted to say hi. He looked at me in the same way I did--as if he had something to say. But I always backed out because I didn’t want to creep him out. I was just a stranger to him just as he was to me. Although we always meet in this place, we were no one to each other. I didn’t want to risk it--going out of my routine. He was a stranger, he was going to stay that way.

 

Day 60: I saw him again today.

I was not really feeling well. My eyes were puffy because of my colds and my throat was really dry. I wasn’t really looking my usual self. So instead of looking at him just like usual, I tried my best to avoid his gaze. I didn’t want him to see me this way. I felt ugly.

 

Day 61: My fever finally kicked in.

I didn’t see him today. I report to work and had to rest. Damn.

 

Day 62: I saw him again.

And the thought that he wouldn’t even know how I was yesterday… it’s a bit funny yet sad at the same time.

 

I realized that I had a life outside of him. That I had problems with work, I was struggling in reaching my dreams, I had lapses with my friends. And as long as he remained a stranger, he would be voided of those problems. And he was a constant--the only good constant.

Day 75: I didn’t see him today.

Maybe he was earlier or later than usual today. It was weird not to see him but I knew that this was inevitable. It’s normal, in fact. Who gets attached to a complete stranger, whom I haven’t even talked to?

 

Later that day, not seeing him, I should have known it was a bad luck. It felt like I was floating in the office, as if my soul was just outside of my body. A project I had been waiting to lead was given to someone else. A position in the company I was aiming for considered another candidate. And these were the most important personal things that were ripped off me on the same day that I didn’t see him.

I kept telling myself that he was just a stranger. A part of my mornings. But he was no one.

Life had to go on.

Day 76: I didn’t see him again. I was still down and still struggling not to shed tears at the office because of all the news yesterday.

Day 77. Still didn’t see him.

Day 78. He still wasn’t around. Did I already lose the chance of actually saying hi to him?

Day 79: End of the week and still no sight of him. Weird though, it felt like I was getting used to this. It felt like a new chapter of my life. There were so many let-downs, but I had to live. It felt empowering. It felt like it made me stronger.

And he was still a stranger. I was going through a lot in my life and he remained a stranger. It felt like he was never going to be a part of it.

 

And yet the weirdest thing was it felt like I wish he was a part of it. Of my life. I wish I knew him.

 

The weekend went by, and I was not conscious anymore of the time I left for work. I just wanted to get there, without looking forward to seeing a stranger, and trying to catch the right timing. I was done with that. He was a stranger and I was not going to let him take part in my life.

But the universe seemed to have left a surprise for me.

Not caring about the time made me late for work. I was walking fast, passing by everyone in front of me because I still had to catch the time somehow. If I would be late, I couldn’t be too late.

 

I was trying to pass by a group of people in front of me because they were walking too slow and I was in rush. I did just that.

And my world stopped. When I was on the side, he was there. Right in front of me.

I didn’t know until then that literally, a world could stop. My heart beat fast. My palms felt sweaty. And I looked at him. And he looked at me. We started at each other for full three seconds.

But I had to rush to my office.

And he was just a stranger. He didn’t know what I’d been through in the past week.

Should I smile? I couldn’t. Should I at least acknowledge him? I couldn’t.

He was just a stranger.

 

So looked down. And continued walking. I passed by him as my world just didn’t stop. As if seeing him after a hell week didn’t matter.

But all I wanted to do was hug him tightly. Because he was a sign that everything would go back to normal. He was a part of my routine. So everything would be okay.

Indeed, everything went better than okay.

I was offered a position higher than what I was originally aiming for. I didn’t care now that I didn’t get the project and position I wanted. But there was a catch. I would be transferred to a different location.

 

I saw him again after that day. Everyday. Consistent. Same place, same time, same look in his eyes. His perfect blonde hair and his sleek white long-sleeved shirt. The small curve of his lips when he saw me. I would always remember that. But never did he realize, I was already counting our days.

We were close to the end. The day would come that I wouldn’t see him anymore because I would be leaving soon. Different country, different time zones, different everything. And this time, he wouldn’t be a part of it. Knowing I’d be leaving, I was even more convinced that I shouldn’t get to know him. I would be okay that we stayed strangers. That would be for the better.

But deep down, I was hoping, maybe, just maybe, we’d see each other in a different place, in a different time, before I leave. I just wanted it to be a sign that he was a real person out of the same street we always meet. That both of us had lives outside that place and time, and that maybe, just maybe, we could exist somewhere else. More than strangers. Maybe friends, maybe more.

Five days before I leave. All my bags were packed. But I still went to report to my work until Friday. I saw him, well-aware that it’d be five days until he wouldn’t see me anymore.

Four days. He looked my way. And I was tempted to say hi. But I didn’t.

Three days. I tried to look anywhere else but his face. Just a hint of where he could be working. An ID or a nameplate. There was none. He was still a stranger to me until today.

Two days. Was I really going to let this slide? Just let him pass by me when all I could ever think about is getting at least his name?

One day. Last day. Yes, I was going to let it slide.

There went the last time I saw him. It was still somehow uplifting thinking that there he was, existing somewhere else while I was here, looking at a new city, taking new, unfamiliar streets. Our time zones are different now. He’d continue living his life. I’d continue mine. I hoped he’d be okay. I hoped one day I’d visit home and chance upon seeing him. And it would be magical how we were strangers but still recognized each other.

Maybe someday.

 

It was the last time I saw her. It’s been weeks, and yes, there were times I missed seeing her a few times but only because I was off duty and when I went overseas for my therapies.

How could I even say hello to her when I literally couldn’t speak? I couldn’t hear things well too and all I could do is look at her and tell her I wanted to get to know her with my eyes. And it was nearly impossible when in a week, I could only see her for five days, in those five days, I could only look at her for five or eight seconds. Fifteen if I saw her from faraway. But there was just not enough time.

Imagine living twenty years of my life, only for an eight seconds to matter more than anything else.

How could I even tell her, “Hello, my name is Jeonghan. Nice to meet you,” when I didn’t see her anymore?

It would take more than eight seconds to explain to her I’m mute. I wouldn’t even hear her voice well. But now that I looked back, I had more than eight seconds collectively in a span of three months of consistently seeing her in the same place, at the same time, every day.

I wish I could have taken each eight seconds to at least let her know that I had grown to like her just by the way she walks, the way the air brushes through her hair, he soft red lips, her messy hair when it’s windy, and her usual black office attire. I wish I smiled more at her instead of waiting for her to smile at me.

I wondered what she did for work, and why I always saw her at eight in the morning. I didn’t even get the chance to show her where I work, a coffee place called “Harmony Cafe”, a friendly place for deaf people like me. Would she like it? Making coffee was a craft for me and I loved it.

There were times when I felt that she’d been through something and I wished we already knew each other for me to check on her. But there were times she avoided my gaze and it always haunted me. I always wondered if she was okay those times. It was so hard to just be a stranger.

It was time for me to go overseas again and have my therapy. Am I hoping for my hearing to get better? Yes but I doubt it would happen soon. But I would still continue going abroad for it so I could improve connecting with people. I would also like it very much if I could speak again.

Just a chance that maybe I’d see her again and I’d have the courage to say hello.

 

It was him. I saw him today. In a different place, in a different time, in a different set of clothes even.

The sun had just set and it was a bit dim in the streets now. The street lights were on and I was at the end of the bridge on my way to the apartment where I stayed. I knew that blonde hair. It was my favorite color.

I saw her. It was her at the other end of the bridge. We were in a different place, but still she looked the same and God, I missed her face.

We walked to each other, each step felt heavy but my heart was filled with excitement. How was he here? Why was he here? I saw that look of recognition in his eyes. It was amazing, almost magical, that it felt like his eyes could speak.

Courage. I needed courage. I could say hi in my own language, in sign language.

This was it. I could finally say hello. Before I was counting the days and minutes, now I was counting steps. Three, two, one…

“Hi.” I said. He just stared at me.

I just stared at her. Dumb-founded by the movement of her lips. I read what she said. But I wanted to take in any changes since the last time I saw her. I thought she cut her hair. Maybe a little tanned as well, given the change of weather in this country.

I smiled to myself and offered him my hand, something I’d never done before. “It’s nice seeing you again… but here.”

I smiled back. And told her “Hello” in sign language. She was about to put down her hand, but I took it. I felt her soft, delicate hand in mine. She continued smiling at me. I continued smiling at her. And it was the start of something. A daylight in the dark, I could say.

 

I didn’t want to look at anyone else now that I saw him. Again.