To: You who left a note on the napkin

It was Saturday afternoon as I recall. The television was on and running. And there was a quiet whisper echoing throughout the room.

A young girl was sleeping by the window and because it was raining I decided to go for a walk.

That day was specifically strange as if a dream and a reality crushed together and made that day possible. The whole city seemed empty and dead. Which I always preferred.

The coffee shop had a huge glass door that led to the second floor. I went in and saw two girls chatting by the window.

They were whispering. It seemed as if everyone were trying not to wake anything or change anything around them by whispering ear to ear.

There laid a napkin with writings on it on my table. It started with “I wonder what could I have been doing this time of the last year exactly.” Out of curiosity I started reading it.

Was I walking on one of the streets or was I sleeping?” it continued.

Oh wait, yes I was sleeping, dreaming like a fortune teller who makes a living by dreaming, telling fortunes and futures of people through her dream. Yes, I was dreaming like one of them at this time of the last year. But you see, I do not make a living by my dreams like one of the fortune tellers, my dreams simply stay with me so that makes me different than them I guess.

I am writing this at this moment because I assume I might be wondering the same question at this time of the next year. You know, thinking what was I doing at this moment next year.

You probably know by now that I am just circling around, not getting to the point.

But let’s get to that later since we were talking about what was I doing right now. Now at this moment, I am sitting at a cafe, black coffee beside me, my shoes wet making Saturday afternoon uncomfortable.

The sky gloomy, several women in the cafe, one drinking tea, one playing with her phone, having no idea that I am exactly writing about them at this moment.

At times the more I glance at people around me, the more I wonder what they could be thinking at this moment, what their inner childish dreams are or else if and when do they feel lonely and what do they do to distract themselves from those loneliness filled moments.

Those women who surround me, well…they all look beautiful in their own way. I used to think that one month ago, all the people are really beautiful at least that is how it seemed to me when I looked at them. But now I stopped thinking the same way. Instead, I started to see their flaws.

So, where were we?


Yes, we were at that point. We were talking about how I was circling the main point not concentrating on the important things that will turn out as unimportant things in the future instead I was pointing out the unimportant things that will turn out as important in the future.

Right. “

It ended with “Right”. There were no dates and names. I sat there for a while trying to imagine who might have written it.


I looked around while holding the napkin. It must have been more than an hour; grabbing onto the napkin and sitting there.

It was Saturday afternoon as I remember exactly. And it was raining outside.

Probably someone wrote it I thought to myself.

Or probably, Saturday afternoon wrote it I told myself.

Coding my way to life

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