Le Chat Mauve

#coextensivesounds

The space would probably fit no more than fifty people. The lights were a bit too much, but that’s when he realized it would be a preety good idea to dim them a little.
No other place would look, feel and sound so familiar as this one did.

She was sitting there, all alone, alegedly waiting for some company. Besides the people working there, there was no one else to disturb the dripping musical silence.
The tea she ordered was somewhat reviving old memories of warmth and friends, abandoned somewhere along the way.

At 10PM sharp, a sturdy, green eyed gentleman, well dressed and utterly nervous joined her table, no questions asked, no answers given.
– Should we order?
– Let’s! Fancy trying some pasta? or should we wait for him to join us as well?

Small talk, stupid glazing into eachother’s eyes, same musical silence.
Although the place started to get a bit crowded, although the sound of her two friends’ voices trimmed the air in front of her, there was something else regularly vibrating her eardrum.
Like a gost closely watching. The tingles on her cheecks, the volatile warm breath in her ear, the weird, yet exciting sensation that someone is watching.

A sudden craving for a smoke left her company on the other side of the table hanging into what seemed to be an intense, yet manly business discussion.
She slided through the door, only to stop 3 seconds later and regain control of her thoughts, over a long, yet quiet smoke.

Although the air outside was way thicker and more robust than the one inside, the soft feathearly touch on her face, the silent whisper hidden behind eyes wide open, the intriguingly familiar feeling of being watched were still there.

Even if the night had many more hours left inside, the one third green eyed part of the table had to leave. The only part that was expected home by a wife and a kid. If she only knew.

Regaining normality, re-entering the seamlessly musical silence, the scene was that of a two old friends chatting and laughing away the recently ended awkwardness of the encounter. She had this joyful, yet enjoyable loud laughter, that would, from time to time, interrupt the rainy musical flow.

Night came quickly that evening and as the hours passed, the place returned to it’s initial familiar state, with only two people joking life away, hidden in plain sight, only four feet away from his intrigued, yet calm state.

She, then got up and started taking pictures of the bar, trying to decifer the bizzar, yet rare handwritting on it.

– Are you a jazz fan? he asked.
– (she was definetly not into small talk, never was, never will be) I enjoy it, yes.
Very few knew that she, as a child, would rest her head on the car window and listen to endless hours of jazz, while the car drove to who knows where for God knows how long.

One thing usually leads to another. And it did.

***

One late September evening, 5 swift minutes will have changed her life forever.
That and a hug.
The syncronicity of two asynchronous hearts, pounding from one chest cavity to the other, coextensively winding together.

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