This story is not from a far away time. Number of cars still exceeded
buses. And number of buses still exceeded the number of tube. Neither
is this story from far away future because Sakura still bloomed around
the city and old wooden bridges could still be walked upon.
During this time close to one park which was blessed with season’s best Cherry blossom views. A man named Mikmac was sitting and enjoying his cups of tea all while counting the number of sakura flowers over the tree next to the the garden gate. The wind was mild and sun’s heat soared by an umbrella of clouds. He had already counted till forty and was a bit distressed as his eyes were soaring.
It was then that he noticed that there was a girl sitting next to him and looking at him curiously. To be true, he already knew the girl was there but since he could not manage not to look at him. He had started counting the flowers. But now he had no choice but to answer her gaze.
”A good morning to you, miss”, he bowed and questioned politely, “Do I interest you anyway”
“Why do you ask so?” asked the girl.
“Probably, because I have been sitting here since an hour and you have not paid a moment of attention to Me.” she pointed at the cherry blossom tree, “What interests you in them?”
“They are the cherry tree, miss” He said shyly “They hold stories”.
“And do I not?” she asked with a stick in her voice.
MikMac was taken aback by such a straight question.
“I know not what to say”, first he tried to look her directly in eyes but found them scarily pretty. He stole his gaze away.
“I know not what to say. Can I offer you a cup of tea?” he asked searching corners.
Was his discomfort not visible? Were his shaking hands, the sudden jerks of his head not visible to all? Did he not understand the anxiety filling his aura? We know not of him but the girl’s flooding eyes did tell that it was a visible color.
She politely declined, “No thank you, I must leave. Please do enjoy your counting of the sakura. They rarely flower so pretty”. So said she stood from the chair and took her leave.
The cafe was seven steps below the road. The hurry in her steps was visible even to the wind which shed sakura flowers as if to fill the love her steps drained from the scene. Once she had distanced herself from the cafe, and the garden was out from sight she switched her phone on and dialed a number.
The voice on the other side was as frozen as pine in winter. It spoke with calm “I suppose you have already met him?” The answer was not in words but in sobs flowing like waves touching and returning over a shore.
“Had I not warned you of this meeting?” The woman at the other end inquired “Tell me your location I will send a car”
“Thank you”, she replied, pausing to fend her tears off, “I will wait for the bus”.
Alas, but the bus stop too was sheltered under a sakura tree, flooded with lovers still able to recognize each other. Alas, for her sobs were now as loud as the engines growling around. Alas, for the tree did not shed even a single flower down into her lap.
During this time close to one park which was blessed with season’s best Cherry blossom views. A man named Mikmac was sitting and enjoying his cups of tea all while counting the number of sakura flowers over the tree next to the the garden gate. The wind was mild and sun’s heat soared by an umbrella of clouds. He had already counted till forty and was a bit distressed as his eyes were soaring.
It was then that he noticed that there was a girl sitting next to him and looking at him curiously. To be true, he already knew the girl was there but since he could not manage not to look at him. He had started counting the flowers. But now he had no choice but to answer her gaze.
”A good morning to you, miss”, he bowed and questioned politely, “Do I interest you anyway”
“Why do you ask so?” asked the girl.
“Probably, because I have been sitting here since an hour and you have not paid a moment of attention to Me.” she pointed at the cherry blossom tree, “What interests you in them?”
“They are the cherry tree, miss” He said shyly “They hold stories”.
“And do I not?” she asked with a stick in her voice.
MikMac was taken aback by such a straight question.
“I know not what to say”, first he tried to look her directly in eyes but found them scarily pretty. He stole his gaze away.
“I know not what to say. Can I offer you a cup of tea?” he asked searching corners.
Was his discomfort not visible? Were his shaking hands, the sudden jerks of his head not visible to all? Did he not understand the anxiety filling his aura? We know not of him but the girl’s flooding eyes did tell that it was a visible color.
She politely declined, “No thank you, I must leave. Please do enjoy your counting of the sakura. They rarely flower so pretty”. So said she stood from the chair and took her leave.
The cafe was seven steps below the road. The hurry in her steps was visible even to the wind which shed sakura flowers as if to fill the love her steps drained from the scene. Once she had distanced herself from the cafe, and the garden was out from sight she switched her phone on and dialed a number.
The voice on the other side was as frozen as pine in winter. It spoke with calm “I suppose you have already met him?” The answer was not in words but in sobs flowing like waves touching and returning over a shore.
“Had I not warned you of this meeting?” The woman at the other end inquired “Tell me your location I will send a car”
“Thank you”, she replied, pausing to fend her tears off, “I will wait for the bus”.
Alas, but the bus stop too was sheltered under a sakura tree, flooded with lovers still able to recognize each other. Alas, for her sobs were now as loud as the engines growling around. Alas, for the tree did not shed even a single flower down into her lap.
