Déjà Vu

I was bored and I had a moment of inspiration. Maybe you'll enjoy.

It was déjà vu. She sat on the high stool at the other end of the darkened room. Besides the vanilla candles that lined the walls, her porcelain white skin shined. She sat with unfamiliar fellow, and laughed easily, though he could tell from a distance that her smile did not reach her raven black eyes. She nodded in understanding when she thought it was appropriate. Her gestures were forced; and every so often she would discretely glance at her watch. He could tell that she was uncomfortable. She was stunningly beautiful. She wore a simple knee length blood red v-necked cashmere sweater dress that just grazed over her hourglass figure. Her normally straight black hair was up in a beautiful knot of curls. He knew she was aching in her one size too small stiletto black heels, but those were her favorite, as were his. The only ornaments she wore were the onyx bracelet and earrings that he gave her before he went away two years ago.

He could hear his heart trying to break away from the confines of his chest. He attempted to participate in the nearby political discussion of the neighboring state's senatorial race. He couldn't hold his attention to the perky pretty blonde that sat next to him. He even sampled some of the hosts' hor dourves, but he could not distinguish any flavors since his throat was dry. He could not quell the racing of his heart and his eyes always involuntarily drifted back to her. His untamed gaze stayed on her as she unwillingly followed her partner to the plush leather couch in the center of the room. He noticed when her companion gave her a rose; she accepted it with a fleeting look of longing.

He didn't notice himself walking along the perimeter of the room- careful to avoid her ebony eyes. He needed to hear her voice - to know if it was still like a summer melody to his ears. He was lucky he was in the shadows, so that no one could see the awkward stumble he made when he became lightheaded as he realized that it was her ruby lips that still made those wonderful sounds that haunted his sleepless nights.

The last words that she spoke to him were, “Please try to write. Don’t forget me and come back soon.” He knew she hated modern technology like emails, and remembered her saying that letter writing was more personal. He didn’t write to her. He once tried, two weeks after he left to write to her, to say that his journey was safe and uneventful. But the moment he wrote the word ‘Dear’, his hand failed him. Writing hurt too much. She wrote him diligently for eight months, which he kept hidden in his sock drawer since he memorized each word and the artistic shape of each individual letter. Each subsequent letter was shorter than the previous one. He supposed that his lack of response discouraged her to continue writing him.

He couldn't believe it. The love of his life was only several yards away from him. Yet, the time they spent apart, could fill a thousand history tombs. He missed her and longed to be the companion that sat next to her caressing her soft charcoal tresses. He hoped to the heavens that she was remembering the time they sat at that very couch-- which was their very first encounter.

He noticed his friend waving him over from the far corner of the room. It was apparently very important and he reluctantly tore his eyes away from his Venus. He knew that he didn’t correctly answer the query that his friend asked him; he was preoccupied with other things. His eyes automatically began to search for his lady, but he realized the spot next to her companion was empty, save the rose that was given to her.

He was saddened, yet was relieved. Watching her unlocked many hidden memories. He decided to leave and needed a hard drink to quench his thirst and longing. He left the party and began to walk down the chilly boulevard towards his favorite past-life bar. He walked with thoughts of her, and didn’t realize that he was walking towards the train platform. It was the train platform that held the most painful memory of all.

He couldn’t understand what brought him to this painful location. The chilly night resembled the night he left. It even began to snow, just like that moment two years ago. He remembered her saying, “The train wouldn’t be able to stay on the track if there’s snow and ice on the rails.” He shut his eyes and stood at the spot where they last embraced. Standing there, he could smell the perfume that he gave to her on her birthday. He could feel the soft scarf she knitted for him. He could taste the cookies she made for his journey. He could see the tiny white snowflakes that dotted her raven locks. He could see how the light wind made her cheeks a rosy pink.

A forceful gust of wind made him lost his balance making him stumble to the right. He turned his face away from the harsh wind. When he looked up in front him, he saw her sitting on the bench at the edge of the platform.

She looked stoic and expressionless. He moved towards her. She always was so magnetizing. The closer he got to her he realized there were tears on her face. He stopped in front of her. She looked up at him, knowingly.

Time stood still. They peered into each other’s souls. Each eye was communicating how much they missed each other. She stood up and he embraced her. He smelled her familiar scent, and wiped the cold icy tears off her ivory face. She wrapped her arms around his neck and felt the worn out yarn of the scarf she lovingly knitted for him.
“You told me to try to write to you. I did. You told me to not forget you. I did not. And you told me to come back soon, and I did.”
“I knew you were at the party. I noticed, as you were walking towards your friend. Seeing you hurt too much, and my I had shortness of breath. I left my date so I could get some fresh air, but I somehow ended here.”

They stood like that, peering into each other's souls, for what seemed like an eternity. They clung to each other, fully convinced if one should let ago, their dream come true would be broken.

Fortunately their sense of déjà vu was a beautiful reality.