Something that I see in my future. But I certainly hope it does not come to pass.
I was sitting in a booth of the crowded cafe on main street. If you could call it main street, what city has a single main street? The sunny weather outside complemented my mood well. Not because it matched what I felt. Rather it contrasted my mood and thus made it seem all the darker.
I saw him come in the door with the annoying jangle of the bell on the door. The same one that has been going off all day.
He didn't see me, or rather, he saw me but his eyes passed over me. He didn't recognise my face.
I called him over.
We sat in silence. The salt and pepper shakers forming a line we had long since created with our wills.The awkwardness, it darkened the booth, albeit, not the weather itself.
I noticed the hat he was carrying with him looked old and worn. It aged well, it looked nowhere near as bad as it used to.
The bell above the cafe door rang again. I looked up; an old man on his day out.
The salt shakers still formed that border. Oh how I wished that I could brush them aside. If only it were that way. That line may be gone, but the other, more important one would still remain.
He dropped the hat onto the seat beside him. An action of resignation.
The sun again reflected off his face and again I understood why they called him casper. He was so white, almost translucent.
At last one of us spoke "So, how have you been dad?" It was I who spoke.