Observation - Cillian Murphy

Breakfast Confusion

I saw him sit at a table by a window the next day. He read a green book, which looked slightly worn out as he held it. Sun rays fell on his coffee-brown hair, making him look ethereal. Cillian seemed to fit in the light environment of the breakfast room, even when wearing a dark tee and sunglasses.

I walked closer to the heated pans and scooped a small portion of rice on my plate, fully covering the omelette. The steam slightly travelled to my face, warmth enveloping it.

Looking around, I noticed no other tables were available. (I came late to breakfast), but even if an expanding room like this, people seemed to buzz like bees to hurry up and occupy them. I sighed, realising I had to slowly approach Cillian's table or else I'd have to starve for an important day.

I stood, in front of him, loudly bringing the chair out and making him look up. Once Cillian recognised me, his bored gaze shifted back to his book, stating he 'wasn't in the mood' for a talk.

The entire time I stood there, I looked down at my plate, trying to digest and process my thoughts. Cillian, in return, with his cat-like demeanor, closely focused on understanding the meaning of 'Metamorphosis' by F. Kafka. I had to admit his taste was immaculate.

Cillian always stood out among others, even in the morning. He cultivated an absorbing appeal in people, which you could easily observe around. Every time he passed by someone, they always turned around to gape at him as if he was their creator, which at times, baffled me.

I scooped the rice on my plate and forth, finding it tiresome to be in a company with him.

"Are you a morning person?" I asked, observing his movements.

Cillian looked up at me, "I don't believe in that."—and returned to his book.

I shrugged. "Perhaps you should try,"

"Can't you see I'm busy?" his voice broke up the morning breeze, slowing it down.

* * *

When I think back to that spring, I can never grasp the sequence and the meaning of those events, the same moments that repeated. Cillian upset me, but I had to maintain a professional attitude for the movie.

I stopped walking, my phone buzzing in my back pocket. I quickly brought it up with my palm, beaming as I stared at who was calling me.

"Chelle!!! How are you doing? I heard you were in Holland. That's so incredible, oh my God!" Kate sang.

I smiled. "Kate! I missed you so badly, and ... it's boring here."

"Well, anything new? Sorry ... I was so busy with these stupid gigs." She expressed.

"No, Kate, it's cool. We have been shooting for this new movie and guess what? The man, who we both saw back then in London— he's an actor!"

"No way." Kate said, elongating the 'y'. "I knew it! That's why he seemed so familiar. Are you guys getting along?"

I sighed. "I wish... He's really annoying and just ignored me at breakfast."

"That's cute like he's such a cat. Don't worry about it!" Kate laughed over the phone.

"How is your life right now?" I wondered, leaving Kate to share about her new gigs and experiences.

We talked for a long minute, and Kate, as usual, took longer to analyse her situation. She and I would call once in a while since Kate didn't like to use messenger apps. She rarely even opened them to send me a 'How are you?' text.

I realised I was late for my fitting after looking at the hotel clock in front of me. Running in my high-heeled boots outside, I looked around to find my raven car. At the fitting, I would have to try on each outfit for my future scenes. The call time was in thirty minutes, though Alex was nowhere to be found. I ran my thin fingers through my short hair when realising I would be late.

A minute passed or two, and the thoughts in my brain raced like sports cars. I was confused with both Alex and Cillian. It made me rage! I always thought I had enough control to stand still and maintain the best in myself, but now, as time was flying by, I'd grasped how little I actually understood my nature and body.