He Who Sees The Future

 “Uhm. “ was all she answered back, and paused for a moment. It was obvious she was waiting for me to look up at her before she says any more.  So I did, even if I didn’t really want to.

“Can I borrow your sugar? I’m all out.” She was smiling at me. Brown eyes, brown hair. Perfectly aligned teeth. Skin white as lily. Curves that go in all the right places.  She’s wearing makeup, but only faintly. Nevertheless she looked like one of those girls who would still look good without any makeup on.  I guess she’s what one would call conventionally beautiful.

She was gesturing towards my sugar, still smiling.

I didn’t want to, but in a split second I saw her future right before my eyes. She’s graduating this semester. She will be getting a job, not much of a career, but something she would work hard for. She would be terrorized at work but she would do her best. She’d be sick with the flu a few months later, but she would be fine after a week. Then she’d go back to work. All those boring details all cramped up in that one stare.

“Yeah sure.” I said.

I was just about to shift my gaze, when I found something curious.

Her future.

It had me in it.

She’d be meeting me on a bus to the main town, I would be sitting near a window. We would be having a stimulating conversation, she would be smiling a lot. Then weeks, maybe months later, we will be walking together down the street. She would lean close to me, her head nestled in my shoulder.

This is curious. Really curious.

“Do you want to sit with me?” I asked, a little impulsively.

“I’m sorry, what?” She asked. She was about to turn and walk to her table, my sugar in hand. She looked back at me, her curls falling dramatically on her shoulders as she gazed with a questioning stare.

“I noticed you’re sitting alone. I am too. I’d really like company.”

She thought for a while, probably weighing the consequences of trusting a guy she’d only talked to because she wanted some sugar for her coffee.

“It’s just the company. We don’t have to talk, or exchange information, or anything like that.”

She smiled warmly at me. “Sure. Why not?”

She went over to my table, taking her cup with her. I noticed she was also holding a book. I’d like to warn her about the book. I saw how it would make her cry so hard when she finishes it. But I kept quiet and keep on reading mine.

“What are you reading?” she asked after a while.

I held out my book for her to see the cover.  It was Lolita by Vladimir Nabokov.

I already know how it ends. It ends badly, like most stories in real life. The only reason I’m putting up with it is because I like to read endings I actually chose to see, and not see futures I did not ask for.