The Stranger I See Everyday…Part -3

Link to Part-2

https://medium.com/@youngwildfree.me/to-the-stranger-i-see-every-day-but-have-never-spoken-to-part-2-5096ab5e8a44

Request — Play the above music while reading this piece.

The cafe wasn’t as familiar at this hour. The light felt different — warmer, heavier. The music was softer as if it was also tired from the day. The people were louder, but not in an annoying way. More like they were letting out everything they had held in since morning.

I hesitated at the entrance, scanning for a seat. There wasn’t one. Well, except for that one.

The table. Her table.

She was already there, sitting exactly how she always did — coffee in one hand, cigarette in the other. She looked up when I approached, raising an eyebrow as if she, too, was surprised to see me at this time.

“Mind if I sit here?” I asked, gesturing at the empty chair.

She exhaled a thin cloud of smoke, then shrugged. “All yours. But I do smoke.”

I nodded and sat down. I didn’t mind the smoke. I minded the silence that came after.

I wanted to ask so many things. Why was she here this late? Why wasn’t she leaving at 4:07 PM like always? Had something changed? Did she change?

I wanted to ask why she smoked so much. If it was stress. If it was loneliness. If it was just a habit she picked up one day and never put down.

I wanted to ask why she never ate home food for lunch. If home wasn’t a place she wanted to go back to. If home wasn’t a place at all.

But I skipped all of these.

Instead, we sat there, sitting at the same table, doing our work.

We made eye contact a few times. Passed small smiles at each other. The kind of smiles that say, I see you. I don’t know you, but I see you.

Maybe that’s all we ever needed to be — two familiar strangers sharing a table in a crowded café, bound by the silence of all the words we would never say.

We didn’t talk much except to ask about each other’s professions.

I don’t know if we’ll ever have a real conversation. Or if this is just one of those stories that never quite unfold but still mean something.

But for now, I’ll take this — the shared table, the comfortable quiet, the almost-friendship that exists in passing moments.

And maybe that’s the thing about strangers who aren’t strangers anymore.

They remind you that sometimes, just sitting there, existing beside someone, is enough.

The world outside kept moving — cars passing, people laughing, someone struggling to open a bottle of packed juice at the next table.

We made eye contact once. Just for a second.

She smiled. I smiled back.

Maybe some people aren’t meant to collide. Maybe they’re just meant to orbit each other, close enough to notice but never close enough to touch.

Or maybe this was the beginning of something neither of us had the words for yet.

Day 54/100

The Cafe, Gurgaon