You remember those small coincidences you and I used to have before?
Like seeing each other on a crowded Tuesday evening , and for some odd reason, we accidentally crossed paths again — on a different Tuesday. Same place, same time. Different date, different outfits. Same flushed faces, same fluttery insides.
Then you thought what a puppy love that was. Such foolish hypnosis of youthfulness and naivety.
You grew up, met new people. Changed hairstyles, found your own rebellion — you changed. You’re still you, but in a different way. You’ve changed, alright? But not entirely.
Oh, and we forgot about each other.
Well, that’s what you thought.
Then in some other distant place, you stepped into The World. Strangers were strangers, and you pushed yourself through the crowd. What a big world this is, you said.
Until you saw me. Then I saw you. The same coincidence had stricken us. Again. Accidentally? Maybe. Maybe not.
You paused then thought, maybe fate itself was indecisive; not even bothering to cut the string off between us.
Maybe there’s a sliver hope hidden somewhere between the lines. Or maybe even more.
What a mischievous naughty thing, that fate.