I saw her sitting there in the breakfast hall.
It should be a boring breakfast, similar to another Business-Trip-Sunday-Late-Morning kind of breakfast. Another big mistake of my connecting flight to this strange city in Taiwan. Should have come here by train. I may have saved this Sunday.
A tune of this old 80’s band keep ringing in my head. Modern Romance. It is a good tune for Sunday morning. Not to peaceful but also not screaming in a way. Salsa? Interesting. Ok, let’s do it. I drag out my new Dr. Dre’s Beat headphone out of my pocket. Red band wiring can make your dark long sleeve t-shirt look even better on Sunday morning. Plug it in and I hit the play icon on my iPhone.
In front of me is another boring hotel buffet breakfast: another scramble egg, another bacon, another French toast, another yogurt, another fruits and another cafe latte. This time it has a sprinkle of cinnamon dust on the top. Could be some how better.
And then my eyes look up a bit further than my own table. She is reading an English newspaper, intentionally. English speaking woman in this part do the world? Quite rare indeed. I spent my last few days struggling with the communication. A driver who can’t speak English at all dropped me off yesterday in front of a wrong unknown building. I was supposed to have a meeting with this important CEO of a large hotel developing company. I was late and I was in the wrong building. I got into the lobby and tried to make my route back on track. Another hour wasted. Surprisingly, fewer people in this country understand English than I could possibly imagine.
And she appears to be looking fine.
Not a Korean beauty type, I will say. Possibly in her late thirties. She is a kind of woman that you will not see her among the crowd. A faceless blank type. Her face is so tired and calm. The dress is casually white with thin lines that hang it up to her thin body. Her eyes are weary. A hungover from yesterday business meeting, I will guess. No ring on the finger. But not every Asian woman takes that seriously anyway. But there are something in that face that strike me. Or perhaps it is just inevitable because she is in my way of sight. Something about confidence in her eyes, probably. Experienced.
Sometime such an integrity can turn you on.
Still, she keep her eyes on the newspaper. But my eyes are all on her, intentionally. My stupid game is to make sure that I AM looking at her. Full concentration. What you are going to do with that, lady? Keep on with your dignity? Tell me this is not going to shatter you then. Your loneliness is crying out from the deep hollowness inside. Alone on the business trip in the centre of men’s world. And you have to act strong to prove to them that you have that men’s quality in you to be among them. Still, you are forever woman. And you are sitting alone on this Sunday emptiness with your pathetic breakfast. I can see your weakness escaping from the corner of your eyes. Your longing to be cuddled by a warm hug. A gentle hold on your hand, perhaps. Whatever you are lying about yourself will emerge into the surface of reality on Sunday. It is the day of your true self, as it has always been.
Suddenly she makes a move. She grabs a piece of paper on the table and a pen on her left hand. Something is written. Her number, perhaps. Or her room number. Or a piss off kind of a note ‘leave me alone your psychic bastard’. She grab that piece of paper and stand up, walking from that table.
My eyes swiftly change to me iPhone, pretending that I am checking my twitter. My heart is about to drop dead silence. She must be walking toward me right now. What I am going to do? No, it was just meant to be a stupid test. No, I don’t want to get a real interaction with any other people. I am indeed a childish introvert coward. I can’t even force myself to look up from my iPhone. That few seconds seems to last like forever. And then a shadow of a woman casting over my white linen table clothing.
“Would you like another cup of coffee?” And, of cause it was said in Chinese.
It was a shadow of this Chinese waitress. My eyes glance immediately at her table.
She is gone.
I finished my second cup of coffee and walk from my own table with a relief. My imagination could be my worst enemy. I think it always inherit within all men as a prehistoric psychological mentality to allow men to fight for the mating. A animal instinct. Men should all be moved from that to humanity, I think. A more sophisticated manner should kill all that thought that will eventually drive them to the disaster. A dark end. I made it through then. Back to the proper route. Back to reality. And I walk out from that breakfast restaurant.
In front of me, at the restaurant door. She was standing there, laughing in her white dress.
Still with the piece of paper in her hand.
I Am Yesterday. You Are Present. We Are Tomorrow 