Zoe Valentin

April 13th, 2016

Chance Meeting

November 2nd
The first time I saw him, he was covered in dirty water. That was my fault. I was
driving too fast for the slightly flooded streets. He must have thought that he finally found
refuge under the canopy offered by the donut shop. I felt bad. Its not like I could have
stopped, and there were no spots to pull over to apologize. Water droplets hung from his
overgrown hair, spilling, falling, paving clean tracks down the grime on his face. If I wasnt
driving I would have clenched my eyes closed. My heart clenched instead.

November 6th
I saw him again, and it was because I tripped over his outstretched leg. We were two
blocks away from the donut shop I had seen him at previously. I caught my stumble, and
turned around. My eyes met his. They were as green as polished jade, cutting clearly through
my ruddy brown ones. My breath tripped, and the words
Im sorry
were suspended on my
tongue. Unwashed jeans covered his legs, which were exposed through the many rips. His
shirt hung off of his shoulders, and a beanie protected his mop of hair. He couldnt have
been older than me as sparse amounts of stubble covered his lower face. My eyes swept to
the tin can in front of him, filled halfway with coins of various size. His rough fingers
plucked at the strings of a guitar that was placed in his lap. When my hesitance to speak
became known, his lips quirked into a friendly smile. Hi. Any requests?
I insisted on buying him a coffee. I didnt have any change on me, and I wanted to
repay him. I requested many obscure songs, all of which he seemed to know. His soft
crooning left me endeared, and I felt an ache to quickly get back to him. The coffee shop was
a little ways down the block, and I hurried to order. Minutes later I was out the door,
steaming coffee cups secured in a holder, as well as a couple of pastries I bought on a whim.
We spent the next couple of hours talking, nibbling on our delicacies and sipping on our
drinks. By the time the sun had set, he had began to feel less like a stranger and more like a
friend. He shared about his aspiring singing career, his struggles on the streets, his hopes, his
fears. The conversation flowed easily, and I felt cracked open; raw. The way he willingly

opened up to me caused me to do the same. I offered as much as he offered me. When the
streetlamps flickered to life, casting shadows over his face, I knew I needed to leave. I stood
up, and watched as he politely folded up the pastry bags to throw away. I wanted to say
something. Offer help, bring him clothes, a blanket, anything. But the way his eyes did not
meet mine said all that he didnt. He had no need for my sympathy. So I didnt offer any. We
said our goodbyes, and I was on my way.

November 11th
Ive run into him more and more as the weeks passed, and soft smiles were exchanged
each time. He would move along the same stretch of about three blocks, so he wasnt
difficult to find. We became friends of the sorts. I met him with a warm drink, and he met
me with a story or two to tell. I could see that he was doing just fine, and he told me time
and time again that he was grateful for the life he lived. He insisted that there were others
out there who had it worse than him; met a few too. He was living as comfortably as he
could be, given the circumstances.
November 16th
As weve grown closer, I noticed the small things that proved his statement true.
Today I watched as he conversed with young children who passed, making them laugh and
giggle and snort. I saw how their parents would smile down at them and toss a few bills into
his can. Later I noticed the way his skilled strumming and voice attracted attention as well as
impressed looks. The regular shop go-ers would stop by and chat with him, asking about his
day. While he responded, he would casually pluck a melody, one that I soon memorized. He
explained that it was a song he had written when he first lost his home, and held dear to his
heart. I grew to love it.
November 22nd
Today I came earlier than I usually do, and I watched him from down the block. He
was stood outside the donut shop, and I curiously looked on as the owner walked out. They
shared smiles and hugs, and the owner handed him a bag of treats. I followed as he walked
down to the coffee shop, and a similar exchange occurred. When I saw this, relief washed
over me. Every time I would leave him each day, a knot formed in the pit of my stomach, and
remained there until I saw him again. Knowing he had people who cared for him as much as
I did, helped loosen that knot.

November 29th
Today, he was gone. I walked the stretch of blocks he normally roamed, but to no
avail. My heart plummeted to my stomach. I tried to calm myself down. Maybe he had
headed off earlier in the morning, and meant to be back in time to meet me. He hadnt
mentioned anything yesterday. I racked my brain for anything he said that might have
indicated his upcoming absence. Nothing. With a heavy heart and a furrow of eyebrows, I
left.
December 3rd
I tried again today. Gone.
December 9th
I dont know what else to do. Day after day I arrived to our usual meeting spot, with
no one to meet. His absence makes me feel sick. Over these few days, as my desperation
grew, I almost walked into the shops to ask if anyone had heard from him. I stopped myself. I
didnt know how I would react to the answer of that question.
December 23rd
As the month grew colder, I let my thoughts slip into the onslaught of studying for
finals. The distraction proved to be effective, until my morning routine of traveling to the
coffee shop kicked in. Each time I took a sip of my lovely beverage, the memories of long
stories and laughter barraded me. I took to going to a different shop. The coffee there wasnt
as good, but it helped to take my mind off of him.
May 12th
Today I found myself sitting in the same coffee shop. There was only so much badly
made coffee I could take before my resolve broke. And I had missed this place. The people
are friendly. The coffee shop was playing the radio station softly in the background, and I sat
gazing distractedly out the window. When a familiar tune began to play, I sat up straighter. I
recognized those chords. As the song transitioned into lyrics, and
that voice
, I felt my eyes
mist over. I heard a knock on the window beside me. When I turned, I could feel my jaw
drop. It was
him
. His hair was nicely cut and gelled back, and the stubble was gone. His eyes
seemed even lighter when they found mine. He was wearing a nice button down shirt, with
slacks. His hands held a bundle of flowers, as well as a small square package. When my
surprise settled, he motioned with my head towards the door. I dumbly nodded, and
stumbled towards the exit. He embraced me with a hug, and I found the gesture comforting
beyond belief. All of the worry and anxiety I had felt for the past months disappeared. I
wanted to be angry, to scream at him, yet as I inhaled the mixture of musky cologne and soft
laundry detergent, those feelings dissipated. He told me about the music manager who

happened to hear him playing one day. He went on to explain the way he took him into a
recording studio the next day, and things progressed quickly. I walked with him as he
stopped by all of the shops whose owners and customers cared for him, and passed out the
flowers. It was emotional, and tearful hugs and pats on the back were exchanged. When he
finished, he turned to me. There was a single flower left, as well as the package. I smiled as I
took them, and I hastily opened the small hard gift. It was a CD disk. An album. Laughter
bubbled up as I read the note scrawled on top of it.

Hi. Any requests?