How long does it taked to know what we really want? Weeks, months, years? The question loomed as an unseen yet loud silhouette in the intense fog that the morning had found itself covered in. The clock had just whispered 10 in the morning and nothing but pearly whiteness could be seen from the glass door of the café on Street 7. Round yellow tables surrounded by tall red stools sat idle. Flowers made out of tissue papers still seemed to be sleeping, and on each of the table lied a transparent bottle filled with blue liquid, untouched. This was not the first morning in last few months when the café had found itself in such solitude.
Just a little far from the place, Naksh had just gotten off the metro. "Yeah bro, I won't be late!" he said on a call, "Have I ever been late?" He was about to meet his office friends after an entire year, and he was, as he always was to meet his friends anyway, excited. He had always been an extrovert, always talking, laughing, playing, or trying to find someone with whom he could talk, laugh or play. It was quite obvious for everyone who knew him that being alone would not be easy for him and it really wasn't. There had not really been any limits to the calls, voice and video, but he had been missing the hugs. Internet may have made the world a smaller place but Naksh had been missing the personal touch that the online world was yet to offer. As he left the station and entered the milky mist of the cold open air, he almost re-entered the moment he was last with his friends; outside the office building. It was a Friday, and all that they knew then was that they were still meeting after two days. He remembered chasing Hriday for eating his sandwich, and he felt the air he tore apart doing so. Hriday would keep using Kanishk as shield, who indeed had to take a lot of blows on his behalf. Naksh remembered apologizing to him afterwards, laughing while doing so. And he remembered hugging his best friend Anika, congratulating her in advance for becoming the head of an important and huge project, for he was sure that she would. He remembered sitting behind her on her bike when they got to the nearest café where she ordered Hot Chocolate Pudding.
"What the hell is this?" Naksh frowned.
"You seriously need to try it, yaar!" Anika cried in her usual shrill voice.
"No!" he yelled, "You know I don't like chocolate!"
"Oh g—"
"Plus it looks so disgusting," he continued.
"HEY! Take that back," she snapped at once.
"Yeah? Or what?"
"Or I'll kill you!" she said raising her fork.
"With this deadly fork?" Naksh asked smiling.
"Oh baby, everything is deadly once in these hands," she said.
"Uh, does that mean—"
"Shut up!" she said and chuckled, and Naksh followed.
"So, how's the book going?" The voices became muffled as the warm steam that then enveloped the pudding subtly turned into the freezing fog, while Naksh could still live that exact moment, hear the same chuckles. The two days took no offense in turning into a full year, while a majority of it passed by just looking at old photos and videos, and smiling over the memories that he made with his friends, wishing to be back together soon and make new ones.
Meanwhile, on one other side of the café, a few streets apart, in a little house, Anuh stood in front of the mirror. His hair, perfectly combed, his perfectly ironed shirt tucked in his pants perfectly. His pitch black shoes shone brighter than the buttons on his fancy blazer. He took a deep breath, sighed, left the room, came back, looked in the mirror again, and left again.
"Where—" asked a large bearded man. "—are you going?"
"Umm...to meet some friends," said Anuh, "Would you mind tying this tie?"
