chatty guy
I once told him about a chatty stranger that came before he appeared. Of course, I called the stranger chatty, but there was no way I could ever hear what he was talking about. Usually, people look confused or sometimes terrified (which I think is pretty much an unnecessary overreaction), so this “chatty guy” stood out for me. He seemed terribly amused. Maybe he is a fan of cryptic, supernatural, mysterious cottages? Either way, after a while, the situation finally dawned on him as he noticed I couldn’t hear him, for he suddenly got quiet and frowned. I gave him a little courtesy smile and was about to thank him for stopping by when he suddenly stomped outside after slamming the door shut. It’s not like I was offended by the gesture, but I just stared at the door silently. This place doesn’t echo sound, and the whole affair went down quietly, despite the roughness of it. This is the illusion of a cup that holds no water: anything you pour inside flows by the seams and holds nothing, just a dull, bland rock mimicking the shape of a cup. No wonder the chatty guy got mad; he got tricked by his assumptions, and just like that, made the recipe for his own wrath. I closed the book and turned away from the door to face the window again. The stars were falling as usual today as well. I could never get tired of this atmosphere. It puts a faint smile on my face every time, but that is as far as I can smile in this situation. So, I closed my eyes and imagined an even lovelier scenery around me. The current place is not that bad, and while I can’t get tired of it, if you drink coffee every day, it starts to get bland after a while, even if you still like it. I wonder if the chatty guy got tired of talking in this same way. Maybe he wasn’t a fan of mysterious cottages, but a fan of talking, and when he noticed I could not hear him, he felt betrayed and spent the frustration on his departure. Was it born out of anger or embarrassment? I couldn’t tell you. Either way, I resumed my observation of the astral bodies moving in the sky like fish in an ocean, while the ocean itself was like a mirror of the sky and itself at once, a reflection of both up and below. I laughed under my breath for reasons I couldn’t understand myself, the book resting on my lap as I did so, a self-effacing smile on my face.
Goodbye once more, you forgotten stranger, intangible person of flourishing emotions.