(This is fiction people, so don look at me any different)
"We'll take a little step at one time," he said, holding my hand, as if I was about to stumble and fall. He was not my teacher, just an old friend, with whom I was sitting in a cafe, pouring out my troubles. The cup stirred and the foam reached the edge as I slipped my hand out of his grip. I looked at the coffee mug. It showed me the boiling point where my emotions were, and the storm still rumbling beneath. I took it as a sign in my heart that this was it. I either let it settle or go for the plunge!
I started to shift a little in my seat, still uncertain about where this was all going. I wanted to know here I am, this is how things are, but none of that was happening. Since I was in the fray myself, I was in charge of all decisions. It took me a minute to step outside this confusion and look back at my friend. He was staring at the ground, lost in a daze. I felt like touching him on his shoulder, but decided against it. We sat in complete silence with the coffee mugs, untouched, and still hot.
I told him how I still slept uneasy, driven crazy by these aimless thoughts that kept me fettered. All this while, he said, he felt I was one of the most saner people he'd come across. He smiled when he said it, and the sunlight nearly missed his face. That could have made for a brilliant picture, I thought. Looking away, I simply nodded my head saying, "You were off from the very start!" I laughed.
He looked puzzled and sipped his coffee. And then, catching me unsuspecting, he asked, "So do you like men with crazy minds or just crazy sense of humour?"
Perhaps, I was right. This mad man knew me well, alright. We walked out looking in either directions. "We're meeting tomorrow," he said. "Of course."
