Strangers in a Restaurant

Last night, while I was eating dinner, I saw a guy pacing back and forth outside the restaurant. From the looks of it, he was waiting for someone. A girlfriend maybe. Or a mistress. I don't know. But it must've been someone dear to him.

I looked at him while I was eating my tender pork grills, wondering how his life has been up to that point. Was he a successful business man? Did he have children? Was he happy?

I guess I'll never know.

I left the restaurant right after I finished finished my meal, rushing past the waiting man. Culminating our meeting with a small nod.

I might never see him again. Which made me wonder of the many things that could've happened if I tried to talk to him. He could've been a good friend. He could've needed my help. He could've helped me with MY personal problems.

Could've, but no.

We were confined to the fact that we were two complete strangers. Bound to meet on opposite walls of a fastfood joint in Cebu on a cold Sunday night. That and nothing else.

Which made me think of everyone else in the restaurant that night. Will I be able to see them again? Will I know them once I see them? 

And then I thought of everyone I've known. Were we, at some point in time, unknowing strangers in a restaurant? Did we order our meals right beside each other? Did we even have an inkling that we were to become acquaintances? Friends? Lovers?

I guess not. But now, we were.

I didn't chat them up. I never offered to buy them food. And yet, here we are. Acquaintances. Friends. Lovers. All because we were bound to be.

And if that man were to be my friend, then he will be. But I'll never know until then.

So as I got into my taxi, I looked at the man for what might be the last time. I wondered if he had a dog. Or if he liked the color blue. Or if he was in love with whoever he was going to meet up with.

I guess I'll never know.