Dates Boy

A coffee shop chair warmed my bum as I sat aligned with a Filipino looking boy, looking quite my age.
He doodled for as many hours as I sat there reading.
We made fair eye contact in between our gazing out the window and staring at the street with all of its heavy flows of people.

I rested my book across the chairs’ arm, pressed my elbows into my knees and held my head heavy and low in between the palms of my hands. Closing my eyes I felt tired and sore like I hadn’t gotten rid of the plague-of-a-cold that has been circulating through Montreal these days.
Only letting my eyes open as large as a paper cut, the streets’ sun seeped through the open spaces I had left in between my fingers.

The Filipino boy looked at me and then back to his drawings, watching me almost as though I was a snake behind a zoo glass doing unlike-snake-things.

I caught him though, guys. Not to worry.

He then said, leaning forward, through the sounds of the music in my ears, “Do you have the time?”
I looked to him curiously because I had previously noticed his phone sitting beside him on the couch with some Dr. Dre Beats plugged in.

“It’s 1:57 p.m.” I told him with a tone of suspiciousness.
“Alright, thanks.”
The man watching from one table over heard the boy’s question, saw my reaction and took an acute notice to the cell phone clearly on display beside the question master.

I began packing up my things.
“That’s a nice bag you have” he complimented.
“Oh, thanks. It was a gift from a friend of mine.”
I took out a pitted date from my bag and bit half of it away.
Pulling out the entire grocery store packaging next, I had an idea: if this boy is quick enough, I’ll give him my number.

Inching my butt to the edge of the chair, I held out the bag of Dates and said, batting my eyelashes, “Would you like a Date?”

The Filipino boy responded to my double offer in a squared-out, singular way: “Oh no, I’m pretty full. I just ate. Thank you though.”

“Alright” I said smiling outwardly to the coffee shop, but mostly just to myself.

Zipping up my jacket, walking toward the doors, and braving myself for the cold I thought with great humour, “Well, he WAS a bit off with timing…”

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