The Scarf - Part 6

And so we continue… :)

——
The Story so far:

Nothing much, really.

A girl who drinks a lot of coffee. A guy immersed in Tarantino-Kubrick-Greenway films. Another guy who does not believe in omens. Put the three of them together at one coffee shop and what do we get?

Nothing, really.
——

He couldn’t see him, since he had his back to the entrance.

The waiter approached him and without warning suddenly swooped down towards his leg.

The first thought that flashed in his mind, was typically Tarantino. Is this waiter a were-wolf? Is he gonna bite my leg off? His questions ended up in disappointment as the waiter retrieved a pretty silken scarf and held it in front of him.

It was definitely pretty. Colors seemed to jump in and out of it. It would have looked pretty on any girl, even the librarian. It would have looked even prettier on the girl who had just collided with him, a few minutes back.

A faint thought rumbled in the deep confines of his brain.

He remembered thinking about olives when they had both fallen on the floor. Now he realized why. The girl had been smelling of olives and lemon. Maybe it was her perfume, maybe it was her shampoo.

And then, another thought rumbled in the deep confines of his brain. This one was quite far from the first one. But somehow, with a mighty effort, his brain managed to co-relate the two, and he brought the scarf near and sniffed it.

And then, the Universe collapsed, again.


As he stood at the café entrance, debating whether to go in or wait for her outside, a ray of hope suddenly parted the clouds of despair.

He took out his cell-phone and called her.

As he dialed the number he scanned the café area though the transparent glass door to check if he could spot her. And then he saw it.

Was it a coincidence? Was it…

The sweatshirt looked excruciatingly similar. And why was he not answering the call? Was he afraid? Apprehensive? Guilty? Worried? Would he reject the call? Would he answer it?

If he did answer it, he’d surely get an earful. If he rejected it, he’d move straight in and go one-on-one with him. He was in fairly good shape though he had stopped gymming a few months back.

And then, he hit the silence button.

Why did he do that?

Wait, here comes the waiter. What is he pointing at? He’s picking it up now. Is it… Is it… No it can’t be! Oh, but it is… the scarf!

The silk scarf he had so lovingly gifted her. The first gift out of his first salary and all that jazz. Why did she do it? Why him? He looks so… so… weird!

So that was why she was acting weird. That was what the entire charade was about. She’d been two-timing him, the bitch!

Wait, did he just smell the scarf?

That’s it! I’m gonna crucify him. I’m gonna tear him from limb to limb! I’ll kill him, strangle him, slit his throat, cut him up…

Wait, what’s the use? What’s he done? He must have fallen prey to her foxy ways. In many ways he’s in the same position as I am. No, it’s not his fault. And anyway, he looks weak. I could probably blow him away with a puff.

It’s all her fault! She’s the one to be blamed. She’s the one who should be killed, slaughtered, strangled, slit, cut up, etc.

His entire train of thoughts came to an abrupt halt at this point.

As he turned to leave, his eyes were clouded. And it wasn’t just hate.

—–

Author’s Note:

Mental Block reached. Trying to overcome it. Might be successful in a few days, hopefully. Wish me luck… :)

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