An almost perfect plan: “Not a trillion words can express my gratitude for the thousand days we had hung out with each other. Every dream and memory you passed onto me won’t be diminished”. Every soul that I walk by is at someone else's throat, their kisses leaving behind passionate red stains. Not a single one notes my presence, there is not even a half-hearted “hello” to venture my way. Valentines has never been a day to meet and greet strangers though, I should not be expecting anything. Only the sweet scented melody of love plays on this day, and I really want to be her audience. Wearing jeans to the knees and my favourite blue Adidas top beneath a semi-stylish jersey, I am prepared. Today I hope to get Destiny to smile for me, to laugh as she did so long ago. The laugh that made me red in the cheeks. And then, as I round one last corner, my eyes uncover the scarlet initials of Destinies Eatery. Peering through the patisserie-lined display glass of the store’s counter, I await her in angst. Hopefully she shall remember me. The anonymous date I have been stalking for almost an eternity. Today has to be perfect, and that is why I chose this place for our first ‘blind’ date. Gawping dreamily at the parisian-brick walls, I reminisce about why I chose it. Not because of the name that derives from her own, or the seriously underpriced coffee that will most definitely lead this cafe to bankruptcy in a year or so. No. This place is an almost perfect realization of our shared childhood dream, and I hope it helps her to remember us. The quaint setting of the cafe is momentarily broken by a light jangling of bells that beckons me to look back at the aperture. Even though it has been over half a decade, I know it’s her. But, recognition does not drive both ways. Her eyes still search the sparse ocean of heads, slightly worried. Thinking of surprising her, I purchased two blueberry tarts and make my way towards her. She doesn't even notice me, not until I tap her gently on the shoulder. Following a startled recoil she finally realises that I'm her date. We exchange minute pleasantries and then sit down. I’m on the last bite of tart, and we haven't even said anything besides a friendly “hello”. The atmosphere does not feel right at all. I don't know what to say. Her trembling hands don't tell the story of a meeting between long-lost friends. No. She feels awkward, and my silence isn't helping. Our gazes are elsewhere, both averted away from the table. It’s as if magnetic forces pulled our eyes anywhere but at each other. The barrier that's between us slowly builds as an anger, engulfing sensible thought inside of me. How can she not remember me? My hands are clenched into tight balls, I am about to explode. But, before I can the waitress comes by and offers us a cup of coffee each. She snatches from my hand what can definitely be described as an inadequate sum of money and heads off to make our beverages. To my luck she returns within the minute, otherwise I would have most likely succumbed to my emotions. Now there's a swirling haze of steam between us that plays with the shading of her face. It’s almost nostalgic, and reminds me of the past. The sun had been still rising on that day. It was only just beginning to evaporate the icy coating from the Earth’s surface. So steam rose from everywhere around us. There, by our special rocky outlook, we had watched a world shake off its cloak of sleepiness and prepare for another day. “From. Our. Special. Place.” I sound out the words slowly, remembering what they mean to me. Then I say to Destiny “lets drink,” and take my own hot chocolate between my fingers and sip it. Brown liquid dribbles from our lips as we try to expel the taste from our mouths. Then, in unison we regurgitate it all over the table. “Disgusting,” I smile between happy tears. Finally, whilst wiping down the table of coffee we discover something to break the ice between us. From cities to colours, we talk about everything. The only thing missing is the topic of our childhood friendship, but I can tell she still doesn't remember. Eventually our conversation comes to why we were on the dating app. I decide to await her response before spilling my heart out. Her eyes move shyly towards the coffee, and nervously she takes another sip before spitting it all out again. “Well…” she starts, before coughing up more liquor. “It’s actually about my boyfriend”. Upon hearing those words, my brain shuts down and my ears refuse to listen. My eyes still watch her lips jumbling words, but I can't hear any of them. She goes on forever. My ears become unable to resist the temptation after a while. I begin to listen again. “And, so yeah. I don’t know what to do, I just thought someone could help me understand him better” she says. I want to forget she said that. It makes me internally groan. Then, I say something I knew that I would later regret. “I'll help you with your crisis”. Realising the mistake I quietly excuse myself before receiving her number, and then I run to my car. Listening to “Dancing On My Own” I agonise over what a disaster the day had been. The bit of paper with her number is clutched tightly in my hand. A meaningless napkin with a number I’ve memorised a million times. Today amounted to absolutely nothing. One tear trickles smugly down my cheeks and drops onto the seat below. Another splashes on the car floor. A hundred more tumble from my eyes, leaving a puddle of the calamity below me. She slowly retreats from the diner and timidly looks around for me before rounding another corner, out of my sight. I almost yelled out “I’m right over here,” but I don’t. Tonight I will just be dancing on my own.
An almost perfect plan:
“Not a trillion words can express my gratitude for the thousand days we had hung out with
each other. Every dream and memory you passed onto me won’t be diminished”.
Every soul that I walk by is at someone else's throat, thei... love stories
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roro_writes
roro_writes Just a mind full of stories
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When she's been every thought of yours for the past decade, do you chase after her or live with the memories you made when you were kids?

An almost perfect plan: “Not a trillion words can express my gratitude for the thousand days we had hung out with each other. Every dream and memory you passed onto me won’t be diminished”. Every soul that I walk by is at someone else's throat, their kisses leaving behind passionate red stains. Not a single one notes my presence, there is not even a half-hearted “hello” to venture my way. Valentines has never been a day to meet and greet strangers though, I should not be expecting anything. Only the sweet scented melody of love plays on this day, and I really want to be her audience. Wearing jeans to the knees and my favourite blue Adidas top beneath a semi-stylish jersey, I am prepared. Today I hope to get Destiny to smile for me, to laugh as she did so long ago. The laugh that made me red in the cheeks. And then, as I round one last corner, my eyes uncover the scarlet initials of Destinies Eatery. Peering through the patisserie-lined display glass of the store’s counter, I await her in angst. Hopefully she shall remember me. The anonymous date I have been stalking for almost an eternity. Today has to be perfect, and that is why I chose this place for our first ‘blind’ date. Gawping dreamily at the parisian-brick walls, I reminisce about why I chose it. Not because of the name that derives from her own, or the seriously underpriced coffee that will most definitely lead this cafe to bankruptcy in a year or so. No. This place is an almost perfect realization of our shared childhood dream, and I hope it helps her to remember us. The quaint setting of the cafe is momentarily broken by a light jangling of bells that beckons me to look back at the aperture. Even though it has been over half a decade, I know it’s her. But, recognition does not drive both ways. Her eyes still search the sparse ocean of heads, slightly worried. Thinking of surprising her, I purchased two blueberry tarts and make my way towards her. She doesn't even notice me, not until I tap her gently on the shoulder. Following a startled recoil she finally realises that I'm her date. We exchange minute pleasantries and then sit down. I’m on the last bite of tart, and we haven't even said anything besides a friendly “hello”. The atmosphere does not feel right at all. I don't know what to say. Her trembling hands don't tell the story of a meeting between long-lost friends. No. She feels awkward, and my silence isn't helping. Our gazes are elsewhere, both averted away from the table. It’s as if magnetic forces pulled our eyes anywhere but at each other. The barrier that's between us slowly builds as an anger, engulfing sensible thought inside of me. How can she not remember me? My hands are clenched into tight balls, I am about to explode. But, before I can the waitress comes by and offers us a cup of coffee each. She snatches from my hand what can definitely be described as an inadequate sum of money and heads off to make our beverages. To my luck she returns within the minute, otherwise I would have most likely succumbed to my emotions. Now there's a swirling haze of steam between us that plays with the shading of her face. It’s almost nostalgic, and reminds me of the past. The sun had been still rising on that day. It was only just beginning to evaporate the icy coating from the Earth’s surface. So steam rose from everywhere around us. There, by our special rocky outlook, we had watched a world shake off its cloak of sleepiness and prepare for another day. “From. Our. Special. Place.” I sound out the words slowly, remembering what they mean to me. Then I say to Destiny “lets drink,” and take my own hot chocolate between my fingers and sip it. Brown liquid dribbles from our lips as we try to expel the taste from our mouths. Then, in unison we regurgitate it all over the table. “Disgusting,” I smile between happy tears. Finally, whilst wiping down the table of coffee we discover something to break the ice between us. From cities to colours, we talk about everything. The only thing missing is the topic of our childhood friendship, but I can tell she still doesn't remember. Eventually our conversation comes to why we were on the dating app. I decide to await her response before spilling my heart out. Her eyes move shyly towards the coffee, and nervously she takes another sip before spitting it all out again. “Well…” she starts, before coughing up more liquor. “It’s actually about my boyfriend”. Upon hearing those words, my brain shuts down and my ears refuse to listen. My eyes still watch her lips jumbling words, but I can't hear any of them. She goes on forever. My ears become unable to resist the temptation after a while. I begin to listen again. “And, so yeah. I don’t know what to do, I just thought someone could help me understand him better” she says. I want to forget she said that. It makes me internally groan. Then, I say something I knew that I would later regret. “I'll help you with your crisis”. Realising the mistake I quietly excuse myself before receiving her number, and then I run to my car. Listening to “Dancing On My Own” I agonise over what a disaster the day had been. The bit of paper with her number is clutched tightly in my hand. A meaningless napkin with a number I’ve memorised a million times. Today amounted to absolutely nothing. One tear trickles smugly down my cheeks and drops onto the seat below. Another splashes on the car floor. A hundred more tumble from my eyes, leaving a puddle of the calamity below me. She slowly retreats from the diner and timidly looks around for me before rounding another corner, out of my sight. I almost yelled out “I’m right over here,” but I don’t. Tonight I will just be dancing on my own.

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