The Jade Table for Two

There was this posh jade table for two at the front corner of my favourite joint. I loved to sit there and admire its artistic features; its perfectly round cut, semi-opaque (yet at the same time, rich) green colour, and rather coarse texture. It became a special spot to unwind whenever I visited. A safe haven, even, where no random friends could just sit across mine and listen to whatever things I had in mind. Just like any other sensible human beings on the planet, I chose my company carefully.

I went to the restaurant one day in a pretty bad shape. I felt like I was on the edge; the inside of my head tensed up from all the things that went south that week. All I could think about was giving myself an ample time to calm down in solitude. I guessed it simply made sense to do so. And so what happened next was totally out of my foresight.

"Meeru?" I heard someone called my name. "You okay?"

I lifted my face and found a man standing in front of my jade table. I knew him for quite a long time already, but as I traced down my memory, I realised that I hardly talked to him. It was not surprising that we stumbled upon each other there, though. I heard he often roamed around the area.

"Handa," I gave him a slight nod while flashing a polite smile. I must have been looking pretty ghastly that he could see through my emotional state at a glance. There was no point in hiding something that was so obvious, so I plainly replied comme ci comme ça.

"Mind if I join you?" he asked.

I would normally (and harshly) decline such a request, but there was this inexplicable gravity pulling me into saying that I did not mind. The next thing I knew, he took a seat across mine, and we talked for hours.