That Angel

She has pure brown irises. She wears her long wavy hair as if a gentle breeze would dwell there, as if that is where everything is created. Her gaze sends that pleasant breeze my direction. She sits alone. I sit at a table in the same cafe as her and suck from an empty caffeine tin. I’ve seen her before, but never said anything. She’s always on her own.

I decide to go to her. I stand up with determination, approach her. And begin to doubt fiercely, look around with my head as if I’m being spied on, cross my fingers behind my back, even though I don’t believe in it, but hope that now every little bit helps. She smiles at me with a mysterious look. I feel a heat wave radiating and a hurricane is forming somewhere in my head. I try to take a seat at the creaky little chair next to her. She soon notices that I don’t know where the earth is anymore. Not a determined macho, but a bumbling scatterbrain.

And indeed not only my hair is constantly in a mess, but also my mind. I was again in one of those dimensions where everything passes your mind and you get nothing done. One of those days when you move from one point to another, without even realizing how you got there and, above all, why? In this state I now find myself sitting next to her, only her aura still gripping my lost mind. She looks at me curiously. And uncontrollably, my lips begin to move:

‘Well, well (began I boldly) … (but soon stopped) I … would like to ask you out um with me … want to … talk … I uhm, hope you don’t have a boyfriend … Would you like to go for a drink together someday?’

But her eyes turn my brave beginning into a plea and I lose complete control and rattle off subsequent soon-to-be-forgotten phrases:

‘Tell me yes, because if you say no; it would be the same to me as if I were to die and a dazzling Goddess refused to let me enter her gates and said I could go to hell, only to discover that there are some jerking old suckers, which will make me wake up sweating, wet in my own bed, “Saved!” then shouts out a tremendously heavy nurse on top of me, and gives me another whopper of an injection. No don’t do that to me, I want your lips to be mine.’

She looks at me, her mouth slightly open, I see her wet slender tongue twitching slightly. Silence. I feel embarrassed, dive away into my collar and sip some more on the sweaty tin that almost slips from my hands. She smiles and with her thin fingers she gently touches my cheeks. She places her lips on mine, then whispers softly to me: ‘Find yourself and then come back again.’

A volcanic eruption, the blood rushes through my veins. Red-headed and fully satisfied, my eyes stare wildly through the cafe, all kinds of sounds buzz in my ears. She smiles at me once more and leaves this place. I want to join her, but she stops me, with a gesture of stay put. I sit stupidly. For several hours I sit dreaming away, back alone. When will I see her again? And how did she mean, find yourself? I am myself, am I not? How could I be otherwise? And who or what was she? She felt so unreal, so perfect even in form to me, not really clearly defined, different and so divine that I called her my Angel.

I wait some more time until the waiter encourages me to order something new. I step up, put the now blushed and color faded can back on the counter and greet the strange watching waiter. I stroll around some more in the darkness, where I look for the moon but don’t find it; it has disappeared.

A little kitten chases me. I stop and stroke them. I take them into my cold room. It crawls under the sheets and rolls up purring. I tell her how happy I was that night. She purrs on.

It feels warm.