In March of 1999, you stumbled upon him on the train. You had spotted him on the platform, looking for his train car.
You were bowled over. He was the miracle you'd waited for all your life.
As you suspected, the train was practically empty. Your car totally deserted. It was just you and him.
You'd have given ten years of your life just to speak to him. Not just a few words but a real four hours conversation. It would be the first of thousands you'd subsequently shared.
How to do it? Your entire existence hung upon launching that railway chat.
Where are you from?
Why were you there?
What do you do?
All that chitchat would be hateful. You had to rise above that. To soar towards the loftiest of thoughts.
Half an hour slipped by in silence in the empty car. The unlicensed yet reputed surgeon was looking at the window as you both crossed the country enclosed within a moving question. Slowly and softly, jostled.
The train windows were dappled with reflections on the notions of time, space, speed, invariability, attraction, trajectory, chaos, chance, harmony, curvature, energy and luck, in the impassive swaying of the empty car. As it crossed a landscaped image, whipped and immobile, assaulted and distant, concrete and theoretical.
...
You walked along the platform, side by side. What to do? What to say? How could you go on? Save your very existence? Those questions suffocated you.
The man in a black cloak stopped and, turning to you, expressed himself like a lion tamer cracking a whip.
You couldn't believe your ears. The phrase you'd always dreamed of hearing, all the more so from an iron king, so inaccessible and incandescent.
"You're taking me away?"
You were suffocating.
"And where do you intend to take me?"
There was mischief in his serious gaze. Lighthearted mischief. Extreme seriousness.
"Well... That's an excellent idea."
You stared at him intently for a few seconds.
"I'll see you to your taxi, anyway."
Explosion in the man's eyes. Something shifted with that retort. That mischievous - seriousness gave way to a more realistic face, on par with your realistic reply, shattering that culminating, miraculous moment. A fragility you should have shielded.
You both moved to the line of taxis. He approached a cab and held out his hand. Panicked, you stared at that hand, refusing to take it.
"Wait," you stammered.
"Wait a minute!"
Your were breathless. You looked around as if in search of a solution.
"I'm expected, in fact. It'll be hard, if not impossible to get out of it."
That man was the miracle you'd hoped for, for so many years. A conclusive, indulgent smile, maliciously sorry, nostalgically understanding, with crushing superiority, was painted on his lips.
The mysterious man withdrew his hand, weary. But you remained theoretically taut. That meant you'd have to leave him without touching his fingers.
"However," you added assertively, going for broke.
"I can join you in three days... Two days! Even better, we could leave together. I'll cancel my ticket now. I'll reserve a room for you. We'll met for lunch tomorrow and fly off in two days."
A smile identical to the one that seemed to say 'sorry,' with infinite sweetness, greeted your proposition. The man, once again, extended his hand.
"Do you live here?"
His eyes said 'no'.
"Holiday?"
His eyes said 'yes'.
You felt the sobs rising in your chest. Again, you looked around, annihilated, short of breath, outraged by the inescapable obligation you had that very day.
"Can I meet you somewhere? What's your name?"
You looked at his extended hand. You had only a fraction of a second left to grab it. You did so, feeling the softness of his fingers.
"Can I meet you somewhere?"
You squeezed his hand. He squeezed yours.
"I'd like to join you. Call you. It's important."
You'd felt that he'd entirely withdrawn. He began to pull his hand away. You let him extricate it. He opened the taxi door. He got in.
"I'll met you here tomorrow."
He reached out and pull the car door toward him. And through the taxi window his eyes said...
Not 'yes',
not 'no',
not 'maybe',
not 'probably',
but a word that no one had ever uttered.
