A Stranger in the Cafe by Yevhenii Sydorenko

«Stranger... it's paranoia.

It’s something we want to believe them to be... I prefer... the newcomer, for instance». At least that’s what I wanted to think when I was looking at him. At first, I threw a quick glance at the man as I was drinking the average-tasting cappuccino from the cheap cup that didn't even taste so good. But there was a long day ahead. I had to focus on something during that break. People. These are the best creatures to look at, focus, and analyse when you’re having a twenty-minute coffee break. What a fine way to ease your mind. All of them, I mean literally, everyone at this café near my university is so nice. But that's not the most vital part. They all have a story... Another sip... And they’ve all made their mistakes... They all believe in something, deny the truth... Clearly, they’re bad people for someone. They’ve hurt, and they’ve healed their closest ones. They’ve lost someone important. They all have a dream and a goal. There was still a long day ahead, and the only man I glanced at was him...

«Really? The newcomer? Well, how beautiful is that? His «newcomer» hat definitely tells me that he's a fine man, and he does well for himself». I began analysing the man, who definitely looked like the one worth analysing. Almost like a noseless reaper, he was drinking water out of his glass. He definitely had something on his mind. His hat tells me that. His huge, mid-20th century-like tall black hat is adding him the detail he deserves. It majestically stresses his posture, as he is a well-shaped man. I wouldn't call him a body-builder... No. His gym membership is a mystery, but well, his body is average. He is neither fat, nor slim. More like a regular man, who works on an active job, has a family and no time for his body. His shoulders are wide though, which makes me kind of jealous. The chest that he proudly stretches every time he takes a breath is great. This definitely makes up for why he’s so tall. He’s lucky to be in his body, his legs are long, and his chest is big. Good for him, he would definitely be able to fight back if he had to.

The way he is drinking his water is almost like a poetry in motion picture. He slowly moves his hands and that indicates that he’s a chill person. He is so relaxed, almost as if he knows that he’s about to meet his fate. His face reveals the deep relaxation. There are no patterns of anxiety, no signs of stress. He holds his posture and his chin up.

His face speaks for itself. Mid-60s is what I thought at first. And I'm clearly correct. He’s a grown-up man, and his green eyes definitely stress that. I mean, focusing on his face was surreal, and I almost felt like I’ve seen this person before. The tall forehead, the wide, nicely shaped green eyes, big white nose, and mid-sized lips were telling me I’ve seen him before... What a comedy. And I was clearly jealous of his bushy moustache. He must’ve been taking good care of it as it was long, brown, and bushy. Definitely the one I want when I'm going to be 60. It looks great on almost all grown men, but his one was different. Almost special, I would say. «1 can’t judge a stranger by their nose, that's too dumb of me... But I've seen him. A stranger seems to sound so careless, almost as if I want to judge him. Maybe he's a new friend?». He’s enigmatic and otherworldly to me. When I look in his eyes, I see darkness. I feel like he’s seen enough of it in his younger days.

Back to his style, though, he has some explanation to do. This tall black hat was clearly the first thing I've noticed. The classic suit he was wearing was indicating that he's either a fan of old-styled dothes, or he’s a time-traveller. The brown worn-out jacket is telling me he hates doing the laundry and his pants are telling me he’s a huge fan of ironing. His pants look like he’s about to go on a fashion show and showcase them to the whole world. I’m not judging, but it almost seems like he’s in the year 1899, where the era of cowboys is almost over, and he’s one of those rich men, who care about the oil industry and industrialization. His white shirt and a black tie are almost telling me he’s going to sign a multi-million dollar oil contract and go to Tahiti to harvest mangos and live a rich life. «These brown pants are perfect. They match his shoes, which are taken care of. But why does he have his jacket so clumsy and worn-out? That’s a question".

Another sip. “It’s cold now, wow. Have I been looking at him this long? Have I been focusing on his pale white skin, the stretches on his aged face, the facial hair on his round chin, his great fashionable costume and his huge hat for so long?”.

Is he a stranger or just strange? I mean, as I said, I consider calling people strangers a bad tone. What if he’s about to have a heart attack? Will I not help him because he’s a stranger? Or maybe because I hate brown jackets? I will be the first one to run up to him because people call each other strangers too much and that is driving me insane.

“Definitely otherworldly”. I looked in a window for a minute after that and when I moved my head to look at him again, he was gone. “He’s gorgeous, but unknown. Random, but chill. And his appearance makes me think there are no strangers but there is time. There is always time to have a deeper look and analyse the person before judging them. It’s the details and they all work together...”.