In line with a couple of the pieces I wrote last week, I thought I’d start a new series. I care for writing and I care for things that happen sequentially, so here’s the first instalment. I bump into a lot of people when I’m out and about (no like I literally bump into a lot of people, I’m very clumsy), and whenever I’m writing I’m always pulling from little bits of real life for inspiration. Just like Judge Judy, the people are real, (in fact they could be you, who knows), no names are included of course – thats kind of the undercover mysterious beauty of the whole thing. Also, with the amount of times I’ve been told “please don’t write about me” this week alone, I could write a book with all the words I’m not meant to say. So here it is. Part one of: Strangers I’ve Met and Liked.
My hands don’t work, my shoes are untied and it’s far too cold and early to work out exactly how to solve this problem. I’m at my day job today. No not this day job, my other day job, where I wear a uniform and mash fruit together. It’s delightful and I love it a lot. Anyway, you made me my coffee and asked me how my morning was. It’s a routine that we’ve gone through for the last 18 Tuesdays in a row, not that I’m actually counting. I was just about to put my headphones on and retreat back into the world inside my mind where you shared more than a hello, good morning and it takes this amount of dollars to fuel your caffeine addiction. You commented that you had read something I’d written recently. I was caught off guard because most of the time I just write and not realise that a lot of my words are out in the public domain. You were wonderful and polite and have never failed to consistently make my Tuesday morning just that little bit brighter. And not just because of the coffee.Error, group does not exist! Check your syntax! (ID: 18)
I met you in the drive-thru. It’s pouring rain and I feel like my stomach is literally squealing at me. Dramatic, maybe, but I was hungry and angry and everything in between. But you threw open the window with the biggest smile on your face and I couldn’t help but laugh. You asked me how my night was and you proceeded to show me your ripped jacket and reminded me that my life really isn’t all that bad. Even in the pouring rain you were jovial and happily seemed content with the comings and goings of your day. I really hope McDonalds are able to supply you with a new jacket soon, or at least an employee of the month plaque or equivalent. You’re hereby nominated.
You walked into Good Brother the other morning and I was in the middle of a conversation with my housemate as the rain poured outside. You attempted to shake the rain from every corner of your being. You sat, took out your notebook and started to write. I haven’t seen someone do that in ages. Someone so lost in thought and content with their own ideas. I guess I didn’t actually ‘meet’ you as such, but I like to think all writers have some sort of connection. I mean who knows, you could have been practicing your cursive or the equivalent. But you left before I had the chance to say anything, not that I’d ever disturb you anyway. But here’s to you, from one writer to another, for being another stranger I met and liked.