Years pass by, yet they remain a stranger. Did we ever truly speak? We claim to know them like the back of our hands. Do we?
Sometimes we don’t have to know a person in order to understand them.
————-
“Dammit, Jessica is late again!”, thought Marie, nails tapping away at the table agitatedly. Huffing she leaned back against the chair feeling bored. She looked around at the half-filled coffee shop, looking for a way to keep herself occupied.
THUD! Came a noise behind her. Startled, Marie turned around towards the source. It was a purse; it had fallen over, and its contents had spilled out. She looked around to see if the owner was nearby, but no one seemed particularly interested.
“They must be in the loo.”, thought Marie. Sighing, she slid out of her booth to gather the items that had fallen over.
She picked up the purse, “Wow Chanel. That must have cost a penny. She must be well off.”, muttered Marie feeling the soft leather.
There was a small kit with a lipstick and foundation. They were well used. “Someone definitely likes looking their best”, muttered Marie as she put it back into the bag.
Further away was a plastic bottle of water. The sticker scratched and peeled away in certain places as though someone kept picking at it in agitation.
“Looks like she must be bored too.”, thought Marie as she gingerly grasped the bottle and placed it on the table.
Bending over Marie grabbed a small container that had rolled under the table. It was a box. Feeling curious she opened it after making sure no one was paying attention to her.
Inside was a small collection of letters, torn into bits as though the owner was angry yet still didn’t want to part with them. They seemed old, corners worn, ink fading and the paper yellowing.
Dear Charles,
I cannot wait for your return. It has been a long year. I hope your ship arrives safe. Mama sends her love.
Dear Charles,
I wait for your letter every day.
Dear Charles,
I hope you are safe.
All of them were meant for someone named Charles. But why were they not sent? Marie felt more curious than ever. Quickly she placed the letters back and looked for anything else that could help her understand more about the person who wrote the letters in the first place.
Now abandoning all sense of propriety and in search of answers, Marie dug deeper into the bag. She found a cigar box. She opened it and found an envelope and a photograph floating out.
The envelope had a military stamp on it. Marie pulled the letter out and began reading.
Mrs. Carruthers,
We are deeply saddened to inform you of the loss of your husband. He was killed on duty and fought bravely till the end. We have enclosed within all his possessions.
Marie turned over the picture and looked at it. There was a dark haired woman sitting beside a tall and thin man. They were sitting in the same booth that Marie was in. The same café.
Feeling shameful, Marie put everything back and slid back into her booth.
After a few minutes Jessica entered the café.
“I am so sorry Marie! I woke up late again. Were you waiting too long?”, asked Jessica.
“Uh…no…. it’s alright”, Marie replied hurriedly as she got up.
“Come on let’s get going”, she continues as she pulled Jessica towards the door.
“Woah what’s the hurry?”, Jessica asked as she was dragged to the door.
Walking out of the café, Marie looked back as Jessica chattered away. The booth behind hers was now occupied. A slender woman sat there, looking down at something. A photograph.
“I am sorry”, thought Marie, as she walked away with Jessica.
