In my words

Retrouvaille

Retrouvaille. It means the joy of finding or meeting someone.

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Woody leather shoes tapped the ashy cement with each step taken, earning the attention of each passer by- only to be captivated by the unusual hazel iries, his silver locks were being prevented from the shine of morning sun under the shade of his fedora. The sight was something that has each individual captivated, not something Paul wasn't used to. He didn't particularly liked it nor did he have a problem with it.

Reaching the nearest cafe, he took the table with an umbrella to hide him under it's shade. The cafe was quite humble in nature, lower ranked nobles visited it as well as commers with well off background. Paul favoured the place due to its warm environment, no unnecessary formality, no unnecessary familiarity.

Taking off his fedora, he placed his regular order of coffee with extra sugar and cream sandwiches. His face may give the impression of a gentleman with a fine taste in fine and hate of sweet things. Alas, Paul wasn't a gentleman nor did he fancied the taste of liquor. He was a man with a sweet tooth, any time of the day he would look for sweets before anything. He believed eating in general helped him in keeping his brain active and observant- besides they were delicious.

There was only a limited time left for him. He could feel each day how the passion in his heart was dying. The crowd on the street wasn't one to be called crowded and yet, as he sipped his sweetened coffeine, in his own melancholy he couldn't see the people as people. Humans were just a mass of blur in his bright hazel eyes. The caffeine that used to give him the boast of the day just felt lukewarm and bland. It felt like a routine and not something he looked forward to anymore. Putting the cup of caffeine down, he caressed the edge of cup ever-so-gently.

Should I stop coming here as well?

A want for change but nothing to change from. It was a dilemma he was in. The only reason he had left to come there was- to see the diversity of the people. His eyes glanced around keenly from under the round glasses that hung ever-so-closely on the bridge of his nose, how the Baker supplied his breads to the cafe, a trickle of sweat drizzled down his cheek from the fatigue he was forming, how the old man passing by the cafe frowned, Paul assumed him to judging the people of the cafe with his own standards. There was no end to these variables and yet, the lot of crowd felt grey to him. While each person was new to his eyes, the behaviourism he has observed since a young age, it was all to known for him. From arrogance to pity, he knew it all. While fascination for seeing human emotions never left his heart, it couldn't spark enough joy for him to start writing again.

Writer's block? Ha... It is beyond that.

Sighing at the similar wave of emptiness, he picked up the novel he had brought with him. Turning to its bookmark, his eyes scanned each letter with all the respect and attention it deserves, right hand holding the novel and left hand picking up the piece of sweetened bread. The cream melting on his tongue upon contact, the strawberry skin bringing the crunch under his teeth. It was simply delicious- both the sandwich he was eating and the story he was reading.

Cold morning breeze brushed across his pale skin, swaying his tied silk locks. The novel was interesting to him, he liked it for various reason but more than anything, he related to the villain of the story. The villain was a man who couldn't speak, he found himself to be the most unfortunate man. It was not something what Paul related to but what he did relate to wasn't so unusual. No one is born evil, so was the novel's villain. Sinking in despair each day because no one understood him, he was a mute man so it was understandable until- he got his voice back. His ambition, his reasons- his feelings.. all of them were treated as alien. Paul couldn't help but relate to it.