SHORT STORY: 662639

I remember the very first time I laid eyes upon her. She was having an argument with the cashier staff about sugar levels on her coffee. I was next in line, on a call with my girlfriend, but for a short moment I was frozen still.

“Hey, are you still there?” The voice erupted from my headset.

“Yeah, yeah.” I nodded along, as if she could see me, “I have to go. I’ll call you later.”

The girl before me eventually settled things with the cashier, and danced towards the far end of the counter. Her quick motion left a certain mark on the air, a hint of sweet perfume from where she stood before me.

“Your order, Sir?” The cashier asked. “Uhm, I’ll get a Hot White Mocha, Large.”

“Name, Sir?”

And that’s when it hit me. Did she even give her name? If she did, I must have missed it.

“Gab. The name’s Gab.”

I hurried towards the claiming area and stood just inches away from her. I don’t know what exactly caught my attention. But I know there must be something.

“Iced Vanilla Spice Latte, non-fat, for…” I listened intently for the name as I watch the barista struggle to read the words off of the cup. “… 662639.”

It confused me up to this day, whatever those numbers meant. She took the cup from the barista and left the coffee shop.

I thought I’d never see her again.

The second time I saw her was at the bookstore. At this point, I was convinced I’ve forgotten about her. After all, we meet interesting people everyday, some we secretly wish we could be friends with, some we secretly wish we could date, but at the end of the day, we all remain strangers. And time does what it does best, it goes on. And somehow, our brains recycle cells to replace memories that are irrelevant.

But then once in a blue moon, when all the stars are aligned in our favor, we meet people twice. It’d be stupid to pass it off again, but it’d be insanity to call it destiny.

She was right across me, two shelves apart. I don’t know why I remembered her face, but I did anyway. She looked a bit different, a little bit older, a little bit… tired. Her energy radiated on the same level, and I felt it again. That something, whatever it was. It was like an invincible thread, connecting me to her.

I was probably staring at her for too long, because she caught me eye.

Her expression was blank. I didn’t even dare to look away. She just lingered her gaze at me. And all I kept thinking was, “What is she thinking?”

And then, moments later, when she broke her gaze, she shouted right there at me. “I have to go. I’ll see you for the third time.”

I blinked and blinked and blinked. And formulated too many questions related to that statement.

Did she recognize me from the coffee shop?

Did she think I was being creepy?

Why am I so curious to know?

I thought I’d never see her again.

The third time I saw her was at my apartment building. She was walking out of the room next to mine as I was about to enter. It was a brief encounter. I followed her steps to the elevator, determined to get to know her.

The door to the elevator was already closing when I asked, “What’s your name?”

From the other side, she shouted at me, “You already know.”

The next day I knocked on the same room she got out yesterday but was told they didn’t know who I was referring to.

I thought I’d never see her again.

The fourth time I saw her, she was on the other side of the street.

I don’t understand why her features decided to inhabit my thoughts, but apparently she set up a camp there. And no matter how she aged, or changed hairstyles, I can always spot her in the crowd.

This time, I was laughing at whoever is responsible for our numerous encounter. Possibly I was too tired to chase after her. My curiosity felt like comfort. It was like keeping in touch with an old friend. Even if you don’t see each other anymore, occasionally you send each other messages on Facebook asking how they’ve been. And that’s it. We move on. Conversation dies after the last “okay” or “haha”.

I simply just watched her stride.

She certainly lost a lot of weight from the last time I saw her.

I thought I’d never see her again.

The fifth time I saw her, I was going to propose to my girlfriend. I booked a fancy dinner at some fancy restaurant in the city, with hopes to hear a yes at the end of the night.

When I glanced at the table next to ours, she was there, by herself. She looked a lot older than the last time I remember.

“Do you know her?” I heard my girlfriend ask.

“No. For a second I thought I knew her too.”

I hoped I’d never see her again.

The sixth time I saw her, I was at work.

I passed by the 6^th ward and saw at a glimpse the features I never forget.

She lays there, unconscious.

“What happened here?” I asked the nurse.

“Dead on arrival, doctor,” she replied, and pulled the curtains to a close.

And then I never saw her again.