It was two o’clock on a rainy afternoon. I was waiting at the counter for a whole-wheat roll to go with my leek and potato soup when you jumped ahead of me in line. I wasn’t in a hurry and besides, I hadn’t gotten my roll yet. But when you realized, you apologized and after my insistence that really, it was okay, you ordered your coffee and I waited for my turn.
I looked at you and you looked at me. And I knew that I knew you from somewhere; it was like déjà vu. You looked so familiar, standing there wearing your smart-casual jacket and those retro, black glasses that I find so undeniably attractive, and yet my brain couldn’t place you.
I wish I’d spoken to you because — and this is going to sound ridiculous — I thought about you for most of my drive home later that afternoon and I rehearsed in my head what I should have said. I regret not saying something to you. I’ll probably never see you again but if you cross my path once more on a dreary Monday afternoon, I’m not going to let my self-doubt win.
I don’t often write personal posts about my life and part of me feels really silly for writing about this brief encounter which wasn’t really of any significance at all. But something about it nagged at me; it is a reminder to myself not to let opportunities pass me by.