"Have I told you how much I love stations and airports; trains and aircrafts?"
It was a comfortably gloomy day as the sun took a day off. Dark clouds kept pouring down droplets of water since dawn, taking everyone hostage at home and leaving the asphalt covered streets empty. However, she was a free soul. She went out nonetheless.
The man who sat in front of her shook his head. "No, you haven't. Tell me."
"I love them so much."
"Why?"
"Because they give me mixed feelings," she answered. "There are sadness and joy. People who come and go. I imagine myself feeling excited to board my plane to see the other side of the continent while also feeling sad because I have to leave everyone I care about behind."
He smiled.
“It’s interesting. I have a friend who hates airports. And I have another who loves it for a slightly different reason from yours.”
“How come?”
“Both only see one side of a single coin. One hates it simply because he only sees the partings. Another one loves it because she only sees the exhilarating anticipation of going places.”
He ended his story by gulping a spoonful of salad and washing it down his throat with mineral water. She observed him in silence.
“People view things differently. And that’s okay,” he continued. “But in order to be wise, it’s always better to understand various, different perspectives. It’s easier being said than done.”
She slowly stirred her tea, making clattering sound as her spoon touched the inner side of her porcelain cup. It was his turn to take his time and observe her mundane gesture. Every time she’s lost in her thoughts, all he can do is wait. And he does not mind waiting.
The bell chimed several times as wave of guests entered the cafe. Right after a group of loud adolescents passed next to their table, she finally spoke again.
“Last week I frantically told you that I come to hate someone,” she said, relieving the memory from their last week’s conversation. “Is it really okay to hate that person? What if I’ve been blind; just like your friend who hates airports and stations? What if I haven’t seen things from enough standpoints when I draw my conclusion that hate is the only way out?”
Again, he flashed a warm smile. “What do you think?”
The cafe was getting noisier. She took a look around before settling her gaze on her own reflection; on a raindrop covered window. Almost everyone in her inner circle knows that she thinks too much. Sometimes she wonders how he finds this reflective side of her. But judging from the way he frequently answers her questions by throwing back another one, she assumes he has no issue.
She sighed. She thought she was only human, so it was safe to dislike something, or even someone. The problem lies in the degree to which the dislike rests; the intensity, the magnitude. She felt that learning and understanding more point of views would help her to adjust that very degree. She would still hate whomever she hated, but at least it would not be as much as yesterday.
He listened to what she had in mind and nodded in agreement. “Well, hatred is not exactly the nicest emotion to hold, but we are not saint.”
“I know. It will be gone before I know it. I just need some time to heal, and learn not to take things personally.”
“Hang in there. You surely can do it.”
“Thank you.”
She felt his eyes placed on hers, his long eyelashes moved as he blinked. It was an intense yet delicate stare. She gave him a curious gaze—anticipating the words that were about to come out of his mouth.
“You know, I often think that you will do just fine without me,” he said. That was when she laughed.
“Oh, I’m sure I will. But you really have no idea. I would probably lie nonchalantly inside my own little space, share no access to any single person, and not here—or in fact anywhere else—if it were not because of you.”
He chuckled. “You really think so?”
Again, she laughed.
"What do you think?"
It was a comfortably gloomy day as the sun took a day off. Dark clouds kept pouring down droplets of water since dawn, taking everyone hostage at home and leaving the asphalt covered streets empty. However, she was a free soul. She went out nonetheless.
The man who sat in front of her shook his head. "No, you haven't. Tell me."
"I love them so much."
"Why?"
"Because they give me mixed feelings," she answered. "There are sadness and joy. People who come and go. I imagine myself feeling excited to board my plane to see the other side of the continent while also feeling sad because I have to leave everyone I care about behind."
He smiled.
“It’s interesting. I have a friend who hates airports. And I have another who loves it for a slightly different reason from yours.”
“How come?”
“Both only see one side of a single coin. One hates it simply because he only sees the partings. Another one loves it because she only sees the exhilarating anticipation of going places.”
He ended his story by gulping a spoonful of salad and washing it down his throat with mineral water. She observed him in silence.
“People view things differently. And that’s okay,” he continued. “But in order to be wise, it’s always better to understand various, different perspectives. It’s easier being said than done.”
She slowly stirred her tea, making clattering sound as her spoon touched the inner side of her porcelain cup. It was his turn to take his time and observe her mundane gesture. Every time she’s lost in her thoughts, all he can do is wait. And he does not mind waiting.
The bell chimed several times as wave of guests entered the cafe. Right after a group of loud adolescents passed next to their table, she finally spoke again.
“Last week I frantically told you that I come to hate someone,” she said, relieving the memory from their last week’s conversation. “Is it really okay to hate that person? What if I’ve been blind; just like your friend who hates airports and stations? What if I haven’t seen things from enough standpoints when I draw my conclusion that hate is the only way out?”
Again, he flashed a warm smile. “What do you think?”
The cafe was getting noisier. She took a look around before settling her gaze on her own reflection; on a raindrop covered window. Almost everyone in her inner circle knows that she thinks too much. Sometimes she wonders how he finds this reflective side of her. But judging from the way he frequently answers her questions by throwing back another one, she assumes he has no issue.
She sighed. She thought she was only human, so it was safe to dislike something, or even someone. The problem lies in the degree to which the dislike rests; the intensity, the magnitude. She felt that learning and understanding more point of views would help her to adjust that very degree. She would still hate whomever she hated, but at least it would not be as much as yesterday.
He listened to what she had in mind and nodded in agreement. “Well, hatred is not exactly the nicest emotion to hold, but we are not saint.”
“I know. It will be gone before I know it. I just need some time to heal, and learn not to take things personally.”
“Hang in there. You surely can do it.”
“Thank you.”
She felt his eyes placed on hers, his long eyelashes moved as he blinked. It was an intense yet delicate stare. She gave him a curious gaze—anticipating the words that were about to come out of his mouth.
“You know, I often think that you will do just fine without me,” he said. That was when she laughed.
“Oh, I’m sure I will. But you really have no idea. I would probably lie nonchalantly inside my own little space, share no access to any single person, and not here—or in fact anywhere else—if it were not because of you.”
He chuckled. “You really think so?”
Again, she laughed.
"What do you think?"
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