Sparks Fly

Brown dried leaves fell down from a tree that I sought for shade. I looked down at my feet, and the dead leaves had landed their destination to the ground, and... ugh. My white pair of sneakers that Mom gave me need some intense brushing and bleaching to make them pearl white. But, never mind. Never mind it, Sophie. Never mind it anyway. Stop being the perfectionist type. It won't help you that at this time. With the stuffed-up tote bag that hung on my right shoulder and my right hand holding an iced coffee that was bought from a fast food nearby, I patiently waited for a bus to ride home. It is now past three o'clock in the afternoon, as my wristwatch showed me.

Wait, what I've seen today was familiar. Could it be Deja Vu?

The dried leaves on the ground.

That warm air of April.

Those cotton-like clouds above me.

That random guy I met three years ago. 

These are the reminders of summer and the remembrance of him, too. How could that one summer change the next events of my life? Not only that, I tend to associate that one summer day with a field of flowers in a field.

Fresh and lush.

Abounding in new things.

Warm and cozy.

Also, these are the same things that I saw when I met that shaggy-haired guy. I know it's now summertime, but that specific season became different all at once when I met Josh inside that fast food restaurant.

 The queue was surprisingly long that time, so I plugged in my earbuds to keep me sane, and most of all, I wanted to patiently wait for my turn. Immersed in the song’s catchy tune, I bobbed my head in sync with the beat, with subtle finger snaps and foot taps. When I got bored of a ten-minute series of shuffled songs, I brought out Strange Weather in Tokyo from my tote bag and continued to read from where I left off. I was not the type who listens to music while I read, as it would distract my mind from picturing the events in the book that I was reading. The smell of fried chicken, sundae and French fries wafted through my nostrils, and it was just good to activate my nasal sensors while I wait for the line of customers to shorten.

 Everything around me became vivid in color, like that of aesthetic photographs that my Mom always sends me. I don't know why but, there is something beautiful on that day that I still keep on looking for, even though it's been three years had passed. It never seems to fade away, still. All I ever know is, I somehow loved the way he spoke so softly. I loved his perfect big teeth and his thin pair of pinkish lips. I adored the way his hair covered his face when the hot summer wind touched his hair, and when he ran his fingers through it sideways. It had seemed like it upon feeling the warmth of the grasp of his hand on mine, as I would bring back the very first time he shook my right hand, with that ingenuous verve in the manner he spoke the words "hello, nice to meet you". That moment was beautifully bizarre. How could I ever forget the unexpected emergence of a tall man right in front of me, whose hair was long, dark, and sleek?

“Nice to meet you, too.”

“A good piece of lit saves someone from boredom, doesn’t it?”

 He watched me as I put back the book inside my tote bag, a response that I had shown him that I was finished reading, but the truth was, this guy interrupted me from scanning very well-written prose from the book. Just one last customer and it would be my turn to order my all-time favorite iced coffee and burger, but he had disrupted me from being able to read that one specific masterpiece.

“Yeah,” was all that I could say, and fake giggled. He smiled and nodded as a response. A three-second dead air came in between our conversation, so I initiated to keep the atmosphere alive.

“You’re fond of taking pictures, eh?” I looked at his vintage-looking camera that was necklaced on his chest then gazed back at his face. I noticed an embroidery of white and green threads of a name of a guy Josh A. on the lace camera strap. Maybe, that was his name. I don’t know, maybe, that was his friend’s who owned the lace.

“Uhm, yeah, I’m taking photos as a compilation for a personal project,” He confidently told me, as he widely beamed at me.

The old woman in front of me had grabbed her paper bag from the counter, and this guy prompted and signaled me that it was now my time to purchase a meal. In my peripheral vision, this guy talked to the other customers waiting in line whose arms are folded and some other’s hands are pocketed in their jeans, to ask for their permission to capture them for a personal project. He cued those two ladies in front of him to never be camera-shy and to just converse with each other naturally for a candid shot. This guy, after two or three flickers, had shown what he had captured of them.

To be one of the early commuters of the evening bus, I rushed to take my iced coffee on my right hand and on the other, my go-to burger. I saw the camera guy turn to me while I was in a mid-panic situation.

“Goodbye, nice to meet you once again, miss.” He told me, and I was ready to walk through the door, but to be courteous to this new acquaintance, I turned my back towards him and enthusiastically said the same thing as well. Then, I hurriedly went out the door to catch the evening bus.

What a pretty boy I must have met.

I never thought that a certain person would be the reason for such a beautiful feeling that one can ever feel inside the heart. Something had led me to the familiarity of him; it seemed that I had met him for a very long time, even though I had only met him for the first time. I felt unusually drawn and kindred to him. His soul was very familiar upon first meeting him. How could that even be?

Of all the people that I met, he was the only one who proved that a human's soul could be turned into a garden, which springs up and radiates into the beginning of the newest of things unanticipated called fondness. Love wouldn’t be the right term for that, for it is a way too strong word to describe what I felt that day.

I wonder where he is now, we haven't talked since we met. This world is so vast and occupied with seven billion people. Is it still possible to know and behold a person once again? Where could he be now? I was hesitant to click that “Add Friend” option on his socials, as it was unethical or unkind for a woman to say hi first. He wasn’t a good updater on his social media life, as his last was dated on the 27^th of March of 2007. That was somehow nearly a decade ago; it was way too long! My instinct told me to type the name that I saw on his strap. His profile picture, when I first typed for a Josh A. in the search bar, a little boy was holding a Pentax film camera, quite similar to the camera that he used to capture people on that specific summer day. Gesturing to capture a photo, he was laying on freshly mowed grass. The little lad was recognizable as the man I had met, and I was certain that my memory served me right.

I keep holding on to the feeling that I had felt that day, with a hope that it would happen again the next time that I cross paths with him if ever the Heavens willed. Is it unpleasant to long for someone? Is it too much to ask? How is the life of a random guy going on now?

A few passengers rode inside the bus by two's or three's today, and it is somehow a strange occurrence. Usually, only a lady carrying a baby or a female high school student would come inside at this time of day, and they would be dispersed in the many parts of the vehicle. I took a record of the time and the number of passengers that will fill in the empty seats. A whopping twenty-four people came in in just a span of eleven minutes, and truly, this is unusual. Was there a shopping spree inside the malls, and were there many sales, that's why there are a vast number of people today? What’s the matter? I kept an eye on my wristwatch, and it is now four thirty-five in the afternoon.

Being seated beside the window made out of sturdy plexiglass, the rays of the sunset bathed my skin. What a beautiful summer’s day it is. I rolled out the window’s curtain for me to watch the landmarks that the bus had elapsed. The sky had painted its colors of red and yellow, the color most relevant to summer. The clouds too looked like clumps of cotton placed on the sky. What more can I truly have besides these awesome sights above me?

Because of the much tiring day of work and the sun’s ultimatum heat a while ago in the afternoon, I unconsciously slept, too. The heat drained me to an incomprehensible extent. When I woke up from an almost five-minute nap, some of the passengers had unloaded the vehicle, and I could see some had dozed off from where they were seated. It was a tiring day it had been for me, too. So again, I closed my eyes to rest; the trip way back home still counts a few minutes.

As I had really woken up, a tall man sat beside me on the bus. He was holding a bulky backpack, seeming to be full of equipment related to some expensive work. A black tube pokes out of the zippers. He wore a denim jacket and worn-out khaki pants. I never had the time to notice his face. Then, I got off the bus and proceeded to the sidewalk. The bus starts to whir its engine, an indication that it soon has to take off.

“Hey, miss, could you be… hey,” I heard this man calling out to someone. I continued to walk and never bothered to turn my back to see who was the guy calling out to.

“Uhm, the one who owns a tote bag and a cup of ice in her hands,” I again heard a voice from behind me. I never hesitated to see who the guy is because I exactly owned what he just said. His voice wasn’t the creepy type, in fact, it was acquainted with me. It rings familiar, like I heard that voice somewhere.

As I turned around, my heart suddenly went upward my throat, the pace of my heartbeat quickened, and a shiver ran down my spine.

Standing there, I felt like being struck by a thunderbolt, at the same time, it seemed like my knees are becoming wobbly and weak. My hands begin to feel cold that I cannot move even a finger.

The sun's rays are directedly shining upon his face. Some stray strands of his hair covers his face, but it looks beautiful on him.

A familiar person now stands before me. He then spoke before I could even say a word. I don’t know how to feel right now. I am shocked, joyful at the same time.

God answered the desire of my heart. The Heavens willed us to meet.

“Could you be the lady that I saw reading a novel in the queue in a fast food, uhm… and the lady who put her earbuds while waiting for her turn?”

“Yes, I am that lady you’re talking about,” I replied. Deep inside, my heart is going to burst. I couldn’t believe that the man I was looking for for a very long time actually stands in front of me. He still has that long hair, but his mane is tied in a messy man bun this time.

“I was certain you were the woman whom I had told that literature saves someone from waiting, something along those lines… but here, wait a sec,” He put down his bulky bag on the ground, rummaged on the other envelopes, and brought out that has the words Fujifilm in it. He extended his arms to give it to me. Wait, I wasn’t ready for what I am hearing and seeing right now. Are the things happening right in front of me true? If I’m dreaming, please don’t wake me up.

“I wanted to give this to you way back then, but I couldn’t find you; I tried to look for you but first thing, I didn’t know your name.”

“Oh… I remember that day… Uhm, I’m Sophie by the way,” I don’t know what to say next. All the series of events that happened that day was still vivid like it just occurred yesterday.

I opened the envelope and saw photographs of me, exactly on that day we met. I examined all of them, taking a look from one to the other.

I had a photo reading Strange Weather in Tokyo taken from a side view.

He took me a photo of when I was plugging in earplugs before I was about to jive in with the music.

And that photograph of me rushing outside that fast food restaurant to never miss the evening bus.

My eyes widen to the things that are before me. I couldn’t believe I looked gracefully in candid photographs and knowing that the one I’m looking for was the guy who captured them. I am in awestruck wonder.

“All of these… my photographs?"

“Yes, Sophie, uhm... Actually I was waiting on that chance to meet you on the streets, or on that place again, but I couldn’t. I’m sorry if I didn’t ask for your permission to be photographed that day,” his face and voice had a hint of remorsefulness.

“I wanted to give you those since that day they were developed.” He subtly pointed the photographs that I continually shuffle.

“You were the best subject of all the photos that I had taken that day; the developed photos couldn’t lie about that,” he told me in a sudden, like he was spilling a top secret.

"Usually, if a person or a thing that I'm trying to capture quickly resonates beauty and emotion and art, I quickly grab my camera and never hesitate to take the chance to have that memory into pictures," he spilled.

He has a burning passion for his craft, and that is beautiful. Humans who tell of their inner thoughts about their masterpiece also show their bare soul, their creativity, and their desires. His eyes tells a conviction that he is in love with what he does.

His eyes shine as he spoke those words. All of him shines brighter, still.

Am I allowed to feel such a beautiful thing in my heart? Dear heart, what are you telling me right now? As that summer day had occurred three years ago, I couldn’t believe that this day continued it.

“Thank you for these photographs, I’ll truly cherish them,” I told him with a gentle smile.

“Nice to meet you once again, Sophie,” he extended his right hand for a handshake.

“You, too Josh.” I shook his hands gently, and I noticed that his hands were warm and supple.

Sparks flew all around the both of us the first time we met, and today, the sparks were enough to lift us up above the clouds.