Flash Fiction
Hi. Hello. Okay, this is weird.
You don’t know me, but you just have to trust me here, okay?
Don’t worry I’m not going to ask something illogical of you. There is no Mission-Impossible type plot and nothing really serious, if I’m being perfectly honest.
It’s just that I had to say hello, I just did. I don’t know the consequences of this, though I’m guessing they’re near negligible. I don’t suppose this could result or spark into anything, even if I tip off a domino effect of something along that line. It’s just-
Hold on, let me fix something.
Okay, yes, I’m back. No, this is not me from the future, or anyone from the future. It’s nothing that romantic or even exciting. I’m sorry if that is disappointing, but it’s probably for the best.
I just wanted to say hi and, you know, ask about your health and job and stuff. I suppose I already know the answers (I promise I have not been stalking you or anything in that vein; not in the conventional or creepy way, at least. It’s- it’s complicated, but I promise it’s not something that would alarm or trigger you in any way, you can trust me).
I’m sorry I went on a tangent there.
I don’t suppose you wish to continue this conversation further and I completely understand, this is peculiar. I will be brief, I promise.
I’m here for just a hello, basically. I don’t know how well that explains it, I don’t know how well I can explain it or if it is explainable at all.
I merely wanted to have a chance encounter with you. Not a calling, not an unexpected visit. Not a how-do-you-do, not a kiss good-bye, and not a checkup on your mental health. I’m not here to give or receive a comforting hug or a word of motivation or even to renew acquaintances. I don’t even wish to have a golden moment or a euphoric reunion.
I guess I merely wished to encounter you casually, though I confess this is far from casual. As if we met randomly on the street once when we were both out on trivial errands. You buying socks, me walking back to the office to pick up an envelope that must have slipped out of my pocket while I was tying my shoes.
We both look at each other and smile impulsively. It’s a normal smile, not too wide and not preceded or superseded by memories or emotions. We wave hello and come to an unconscious, mutual agreement on where our relationship stands, friendly yet not obnoxiously close.
There are no unnecessary words exchanged, no half-felt inquiries, no forced politeness, and no banal small-talk. We don’t linger to chat nor share bogus dinner invites for propriety’s sake. There are no awkward goodbyes, no mutually uncomfortable moments spent wondering how to bring the encounter to a close. None of us overstay our welcome or attempt to elevate it into something it was never meant to me.
We merely greet each other, exchange the exact, appropriate words and phrases that needed to be exchanged, then move on to our separate ways in a fluid, well-choreographed manner. We move on and neither of us thinks it necessary to look back at each other over our shoulders. It’s perfect.
We accomplish our individual tasks with a slight bemusement, subconsciously happy to have co-incidentally met each other.
It’s a perfect encounter and it stays perfect in our memories. There are no rough edges and no creased pages. It isn’t scrutinised too closely or viewed too frequently to become dull and it isn’t made into something cuter or grander than it was. It remains a happy memory, never forgotten but never really remembered either.
I suppose that scenario is just too cute to be true. At least, too cute to be executed intentionally. Nonetheless, it is good to see you, and I would still like to know where you got those socks from.