down and out

i think you saw me on the train. but i may not have seen you. i was either looking down or out the window. down and out. for quite a while. a long time. when i got off the train i was not aware that you were trying not to appear as if you were following me, even though we were both headed in the same direction, to the same intersection, at the same building, on the same floor, in the same room.

finally, we sat in this room, across from each other, seated on a chair and a couch. but shortly before that, during that moment when you were possibly trying not to appear as if you were following me, i texted you to tell you that my train was running a few minutes late, and that i could arrive no sooner than my train. so it was rather confusing to me that the first sentence uttered from your mouth was an apology for your tardiness. i said that it seems really strange that you are apologizing when it was I who was late, as if you were responsible for my lateness. but it’s possible you never received my text. and it’s possible you did receive it, but did not read it. or it’s possible that you read it, but could not decipher it. or it was possible that you read it and deciphered it, but it felt so much easier to pretend as if you had not read it because then we might have other things to talk about, beyond this.

i know you were trying your hardest to appear as if you could make sense of the situation. when i asked why you felt the need to apologize, you said you just did it by habit. not instinct. not intuition. by habit, and nothing else.

i said, but i was the one who was late. you said you felt responsible for my lateness. i said, i think you already said that already. you said, no, but you think i inferred it.

i said that it was actually my responsibility because if i had not made myself seen by you on the train, you would not have felt it was important or necessary for you to appear as if you were not following me. if i were on a different train, you may have arrived on time.

but then we might not have anything to talk about.

About The Lost Pedestrian

In my wanderings throughout the moments/days/years, I try in earnest to find the mystical within the mundane and the mundane within the mystical, oftentimes confusing one from the other. I have wandered and roamed through many a city, many a town, in a state of wonder and bewilderment, without necessarily going anywhere. I am easily lost, but eventually found. (I am guessing you have just found me). My sincere hope is that you will find Something in this warehouse of thought, memory and false memory, words, numbers, tangents, murmurs, echoes (lots and lots of echoes), voices, dreams, and other paraphernalia.
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