Surreal

As the first of drizzle shimmered on the black coat & the wafts of steamy coffee made my glasses go foggy; it reminded of the realness of this surreality. I fell in love.

The first rain drops kept their naughty trailing path over my face, as my eyes followed the ripples in the little puddles on that marble floor.

The heart beat with the sound of those falling drops.

The mind wandered. 

Somewhere between the idle talk, and somewhere there in a room, inside that building. It was such a to-and-fro trip: an idle talk, in the afternoon of a day somewhere in early January of 2012 ... and inside that room, in the afternoon of a day somewhere in late March of 2010.

'Things end.' I reminded myself. 'Like this cup of coffee. Or like the sound of this throaty laugh'.

I inhaled the scent of winter again.

First rain.

The wet earth.

The lavish heavens.

The damp cold.

That warmth of the styrofoam cup in my hands. 

I let my painted nails peel a little of that white cup.

It was all real.

The present. 

Just that it was so magical, it was making me go back into a time tunnel that does not exist.

I felt the moisture of those flirty rain drops on my face. And recalled the tears of that other afternoon. Inside that room, in the afternoon of a day somewhere in late March of 2010. 

This is real. I remind myself. This moment. This smile. This breath that turns to fog as I exhale.

Standing on those marble steps, I looked back into the welcome gallery of that building.

This is the present. And in the afternoon of a day somewhere in early January of 2012 I stood outside of this  building with my back towards the welcome gallery of the REDC.