The next morning, I went for a walk too become familiar with the local area. I visited the park, went into a few stores, even spoke to a few people. However, whenever I spoke to somebody they would always walk off. Not instantly, but after a few minutes of me trying to engage in conversation. I wondered if it was something about me. My appearance? Did I smell? When I returned home, I looked into the mirror.
I looked a mess.
A small beard had formed around my chin, and I hadn't showered for a few days. This depressed me like hell. I stared at myself. 'What a mess', I thought. After I had shaved (clumsily) and showered, I went for something to eat. There was nothing in the refrigerator because I hadn't been shopping. I decided that instead of ordering a Thai, or a Pizza, I would go out. I looked okay now, I was clean. Maybe I should even buy some clothes.
I took the elevator to the ground floor, and hailed a cab. I had no idea where the hell I was going, so I told the driver to take me to a clothes store. He took me to fairly expensive place called 'Kensington's', where I bought a cotton jacket, some trousers, leather shoes and a pretty decent tie. I looked okay. The most formal I had ever looked. The cost came to $62.50, so I payed with a seventy and told them to keep the change. I was in a sort of, good mood. I decided not to take a cab after that, because I might not have enough money for something to eat afterward. I strolled around, looking for some place. I found a little coffee shop I thought seemed suitable. You're probably thinking, 'why the hell would anyone dress up for a coffee?' This was a big night for me. I wanted to meet somebody, where I could sit with them and talk with them. I also just felt like a coffee.
I bought a coffee and a sandwich, then sat alone beside the window. I suddenly became rather shy, and no longer wanted to talk to somebody. I didn't want to be here, all of a sudden. I wanted to be at home. I then felt angry, that I had bothered coming out here, alone.
Then, a rather young, studious looking fellow sat beside me. I said hello, hoping to strike up a conversation. Surprisingly, he said hello back and them complimented my shoes. I thanked him.
"I'm James," I said, and firmly shook his hand. I nice, firm grip he had.
"Holden," said he. I had never heard that name before, but I liked it. Holden. Maybe I would call it my son. I would tell him he was named after the lovely man I met once in a coffee shop. Then I'd probably get depressed.
After I finished the sandwich, I slowly drank the coffee, because I wanted to spend more time with Holden. Next to his seat was a brown suitcase. He picked it up, and said he had to go. I didn't want him to go, but I didn't want to hold him back. Before he left, I asked for his address, so perhaps I could call him, but I don't think he heard me. I felt depressed, but happy. I had made a new friend today, who didn't call me a 'weirdo', or a 'dork', or whatever. I frequently visited that place again, to see if he was there. He never was, but I always sat in the seat I did that day I met him.