A deserted Barista, be he the only one seated, awaiting with coffee on table. Calm with his back (too) straight, (personal opinion at first glance), black thick rimmed glasses, long sleeved shirt (white) and black trousers.
A smile greets me. Me 15 minutes delayed still he be in a good mood. His patience I liked.
No kiss or hug of greeting. Though we know each other, mode of greeting yet to be determined. A smile, an option, always reliable!
Unsure what be the beginning of conversation: apologies for delay, the choice of drink and advice on brownie or no brownie. Where ever it be the commencement, it sure be one conversation I appreciated.
It moves on to blogging, his writing, his editing, his girlfriend who wants to get back with him, long distance relationships that suck, smell, feelings, aspirations of being published, the ego defence mechanism he uses, numerology, weed: getting hooked and unhooked or not ever being hooked, chucking the dragon, summits…
I observe he has a nice smile, one that be childish and very contagious.
He tells me of men in his family who have habit of being asked out! An elder brother who got proposed twice, a clarification that follows elaborating that both be women and that the occurrence be not simultaneous.
I laugh, appreciating the mere ease at which conversation flows.
A menu of his culinary skill he recites: tea/coffee, toast and omelette, cakes, pancakes, and I forget the rest.
But doth assure him that I be able to survive a week on such skills.
Greetings required. A confused hug followed by a kiss on each cheek. A realisation that he be one of very few who does justice to the kiss on the cheek.
I recall Aruni’s analysis on Sri Lankans and kisses on cheeks, they who do not kiss, but turn the cheek and sniff. Her preference be making kissy sounds in lieu of sniffing. She be proud of it.
We stop, talk of kissing and hugging ,of confusions that be incurred. Delay caused for his drama practise.
We part ways.
A few steps, first time in years, I reach for the phone as I part, text “it was nice!”
He agrees .
Texts flow in, as the rain pours in.
He warns me dancing in the rain doth me no good, specially with summit being so close.
He adds he is stubborn, and I prove I be stubborn.
The rain poured down, the texts poured in, and I, “danced in the rain”…