Blank Faces

13 minutes

I've always wondered about coincidence. All those questions.

Luck, fate, chance and the whole shebang of the cosmic lottery.

I couldn't decide whether I had hit the jackpot, or whether I was robbed of my jackpot winning ticket.

If you saw what I was seeing, you'd see another millennial, hunched, focused on the world in his palm, while smiling at it. You'd see straight, short hair, resting while pointing up.

You'd see a strong back, and strong biceps. All clad in a blue t-shirt with quirky cartoons on the front.

If you focused a little more, you'd see brown eyes, and maybe a tiny tattoo below his left thumb. That was all you'd see.

But if you really saw, you'd see that I had the same little tattoo, below my right thumb.

How coincidental was it, what was the chance, and how much of a luck did I have to meet my estranged ex-best friend?

Right in a public bus, filled with strangers, sweat and stories.

I squinted again at him, trying to see if it was truly who I thought he was. I mean, there was no doubt, but I still couldn't come to believe it for some reason.

He still was almost the same. You know when you've known someone for a long time, you tend to observe them, their quirks, their strengths and weaknesses.

I bet he still laughed nervously when he was in an awkward situation. I bet he still was camera shy. I bet he still was hilarious.

He was so much of my past, and somehow waltzed into my present.

He was so good looking, so charming, and knew the right words and right answers. What a shithead. This guy was an absolute diplomat, honeyed words and saccharine smiles.

Behind he hid another man, one who I had witnessed very rarely, but enough.

As I gazed, I wondered who had his attention. Who was he so immersed in, that he didn't even notice the dipping of the seat as I sat down, or the intent gaze I arrested him with.

He grinned again, revealing imperfect teeth that had been a subject to tease by me.

Such an asshole.

But my stomach and my heart disagreed.