Passing On a Crowded Street

They passed on the street. Just for a split second. They would never see each other again. You never do in big cities like this one. A sweeping motion: she passed him on his right. He can remember her profile gliding by him. The image felt slower as she moved closer, but as soon as she passed him, sped up again.

He remembers thinking she had a nice face. She remembers the jacket he was wearing. It doesn’t matter does it? Or does it? Something happened when the two of them passed each other. What it was can’t be described here. Not with words, no. But there was a connection.

His blue eyes and her brown. Not that it was love at first sight, or even love. That was not said. Whether or not it was felt, only they will know. But there was something there. Deja vu? The rest of the crowd passed on the cluttered streets in an indiscernible and inseparable mass. One body could not be distinguished out from the next; it is how we make ourselves invisible in public. But he had jarred into her consciousness just as she had into his own.

She doesn’t believe in past lives and he’s undecided. Not to say that is the answer, just a possible cause. Not to say they even felt like they had known each other before. It was just one of those things, that’s all. Something you can’t explain in a world purged of mysteries by science and rational thought.

Maybe she had seen him at a party once, she thought for a second. But there were so many parties, too many to sort through.

Maybe he had seen her on the street before, he wondered for just a fleeting moment. He did walk this block every day at this time. But does it matter? He shook his head. Who knows.

Does it mean much? she thought after he was already behind her a few paces. Does it mean anything? She quickly banished any of these thoughts. She doesn’t believe in these things anyway. Just Order. And Science. And Rules. Laws of Physics. Laws of the Universe. Surely they wouldn’t allow such things? Just an aberration in her mind then. That’s all.

He couldn’t shake it. And he wouldn’t forget it. Ten years later he would be sitting in a cafe trying to figure out who she was and what her significance was. Or if he just imagined her. He hadn’t slept much the night before. Not to say that he had imagined her. That’s just one hypotheses.

She wouldn’t forget either. But she wouldn’t let herself think about it. She suppresses in the back of her mind because it doesn’t fit into her orderly universe. It was probably a mistake anyway. Maybe she was hung over. She had partied a lot in those days, but for the life of her she could not remember drinking the night before. That was just one explanation anyway.

Does it mean much? Does it mean anything? Millions of strangers pass on the streets every second. They have no connection. The hands on the wrist-watch tick tick tick and the heart beats 72 times per minute. The only advice that can be given is to just walk on. Focus straight ahead. If you do that, then maybe you’ll never have to question why.