I did it again. I fell in love with a stranger. I first spotted him at noon, outside the mosque. I was sitting on the concrete steps surveying my surroundings, whilst my companions decided which attraction to visit next. He stood, alone, a silhouette against the high sun. Bleach blonde hair tied back in a scruffy pony tail – I usually prefer brunettes, but aside from that, he fit me like a glove. He wore a fitted black t-shirt outlining his toned frame, tanned skin taught over lean sinewy arms. He wore black jeans, despite the thirty five degree Malaysian heat, a seasoned traveller. He was a world explorer. Tattered Vans, the finishing touch to his devil may care trap. The skater boy, the surfer dude, the aloof and elusive, the trap I fall into, headfirst, every time. I casually observed him taking endless pictures with Chinese tourists, a constant smile on his face. He was good natured.
“We’re going to the museum!”
That was that, a beautiful boy passing in and out of my consciousness. A rare solar event, spectacular to witness but never to be glimpsed again in this lifetime.
*
Eight hours later, after dinner, the Moon passed over the Sun again. We were strolling down Jalan Alor, and there he was, a jewel amongst the chaotic amalgamation of sounds, lights, and smells that made the heart of Kuala Lumpur. He was sitting outside a restaurant, alone again, on a red plastic chair, with a plate of almost finished noodles splayed in front of him and a book folded open in one hand. Up close, he had a softness about him, yet somehow still exuded a quiet confidence.
As I spoke to my companions he suddenly looked up, his steel blue eyes meeting my obsidian gaze for just a split second before we both darted away. That instant was long enough. Suddenly we existed to each other. I was no longer the lone voyeur, observing through the glass. Our universes had collided, opening innumerable possibilities. As I walked on down the street, I stole glances back, and caught those blue eyes, again and again, each time lamenting the widening the gap between us. I watched him pay for his dinner, laughter lighting up his face in response to a joke, too far to away to hear either. My heart began to flutter, expectant. Would he come this way? I glanced again – still waiting for his change, almost out of my range. Then, I had walked too far and his sun kissed halo was out of sight. I threw tentative glances back up the street, too distracted to understand the words of my friends.
“No, I’ve never tried mochi.”
Glance. Nothing.
“Yeah, sure.”
Glance. Nothing.
How much time had passed? Two minutes? Five minutes? If he’d walked this way he’d be here by now. My entire body stood to attention, my skin prickled and I could feel the blood surging through their vessels. Desperate, I resorted to my final gambit: fabricating a reason to return. Although my reason was genuine, I had wanted hand made ice cream from the stall which was conveniently near his last known location. But when we arrived, he had disappeared like an apparition. Gone. And with him went the acuteness of my senses, the hunt was over. The game was up. We moved on, and I forgot again, joyfully engaged by my ice cream. Within a matter of minutes he had been propelled from a forgotten blip, to the star of the show, only to fade back into obscurity again. Later, laying in bed, I smiled at the beauty and absurdity of coincidence.
*
The next morning dragged on, accompanied by the whispers of a hangover echoing through my skull. Settled on a crowded MRT carriage bound for the Batu Caves, my mind drifted back to the stranger in black. As if in direct response to my musings – there he sat! He was at the end of the next carriage, drawing in a sketch book. He was an artist. I took in a sharp breath of surprise and turned away. How could he be here again? What were the chances? I wasn’t a believer in fate or destiny. I knew that the odds existed, though they seemed small. I knew about apophenia and the gambler’s fallacy. Yet, I couldn’t help but get sucked into the meaning of it all.
I stalked him through the slow moving throng of tourists as we queued to exit the station. He had stopped for a drink outside and I passed him woefully unnoticed. As we made our way up the 300 steps in the stifling heat and sweat started to dew on my forehead, I knew that the exertion was only partly responsible for my elevated heart rate. I tried to focus on the view, but it was futile. My attention was always drawn to scanning the figures below me, searching; searching for the one coruscating bullseye amongst the hundreds of little ants. Eventually I had no choice but to descend into the cave, and endure the angst of not knowing if I’d see him again.
Emerging into the sunlight once more, my patience was rewarded. Liberated from the darkness, my eagle eyes fell on their prey. He sat on the next platform, calmly observing baby monkeys, unflinchingly allowing them to come nearer to him than anyone else dared. He was brave. My path took me straight to those monkeys – straight to him. I felt the imperceptible shift in his manner as I approached, subconscious acknowledgement that he felt me too. My mind raced with a million possibilities, a million hellos, a million strategies. We watched each other without ever looking directly at the other, yet scrutinising every minute detail. I drew closer and closer until, at last, we were close enough to reach out and touch each other. The air between us was a morass of expectation. This was it. Finally, I could bear it no more and yielded, gazing directly into those crystal eyes. He stared back into mine with a look of understanding, but we both fell short of the courage to speak. I return his humble, coy smile before continuing up to the next step and out of reach once more. Up and away I moved with the acrid taste of regret lingering upon me. When I finally dared to look back, he was walking down the steps, soon to be consumed by the gaping mouth of the cave. Our paths had diverged for the last time.
*
In an alternate reality we spoke. In an alternate reality we spoke and fell madly in love. In an alternate reality we spoke and detested each other. In an alternate reality we spoke and spun countless narratives; acquaintances, best friends, heroes, villains, a passionate fling, a casual conversation, everything in between, a story to tell. But in this reality, we passed with nothing but that smile. In this reality the story was over. In a way, it was better like this. We were nothing but ideas to each other, idealised, never showing blemishes, never causing pain. A love story that can never be tarnished. We would remain, forevermore, perfect strangers.
Brownian Emotion 
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