Hard-boiled Soup

I woke up today and went to the beach. The sky was still cloudy from the overnight rain. It wasn’t dreary though, there was a beauty to it. In the distance, in the water, I could see ducks bobbing in the subtle waves. There was little wind so the water was calm, too calm.

In the distance, down the beach, I spied two walkers. They were mechanized. I knew I was in for some trouble when I saw them speeding up. But I was sitting in my beach chair, trying to enjoy the morning. It wasn’t going to turn out as relaxing as I thought. As they approached, I could feel my heart-rate quicken. They stopped in front of me and asked for my papers.

“Papers you say?”, I asked sarcastically, but they weren’t having any of that. In its monotone, one replied “Comply and display your papers, human”. Ha, human, like there’s even a distinction nowadays. Boom! Boom! I lit them up with my one-handed plasma cannon. They disintegrated immediately. Oh well, now where were those ducks again, I need something pleasant to look at.

Who knows if those patrol droids radioed in before they were annihilated — could be a storm-a-brewin’. Better pack up my beach chair and head out. Time for lunch I suppose. Some chicken and lentil soup is going to hit the spot perfectly. I’m going to May-Mes, my favorite Chinese/French fusion restaurant, I really enjoy their cuisine. I’ll have to drive, let’s hope I don’t get into trouble along the way.

Oh no! What’s that? I see that there’s no parking, and I’m outraged, not the kind of outrage you might experience after seeing your loved-ones murdered by droids, but just the simple kind that’s experienced during mild frustration. Should I circle around and wait, or should I park further down the road? It’s these simple questions that add anxiety to my life. I’ll circle, although, if I go further… hmm.

I’m in. This soup is fantastic, it was worth the mild frustration and the walk. “Tres bon!”, I say to the chef. I know she always appreciates the compliment. And damn, she’s fine as hell. I wonder why such a hot lady works all day slavin’ over soup pots. She needs a man to remove her from all this. Maybe I’m that man, although, if I’m not… hmm.

“Excuse me, I was just wondering if you’d like a shining prince to take you away from all this?” And it was after this innocent question that she went on a diatribe, explaining that her life’s dream was to open a soup restaurant and cook and serve all day, and how dare I think she needed ‘rescuing’. Okay, fair point.

I mean, I’m glad she’s happy with her work and all, but damn, she is fine. And I think her protests only spur my interest in her personality as well. And you know women only argue with the ones they like, dismissing the rest, so I’m thinking this is an opportunity. I invite her to dinner, she tells me to leave. I’m not sure how to interpret this, but I leave.

It’s been two weeks since the incident at the beach, and there have been no signs of droids, but my nights are restless. All I can think about is her, the lady from the soup place. It’s breakfast time, so I prepare my breakfast in a way that only skilled chefs can appreciate. But when I eat it, I partake like a savage.

What drives a man to dwell upon the unfathomable? How does love manifest within those ignorant of its ways? How can I recognize something I’ve never seen? But if I am to know it, I must pursue it, although blindly. To look at her, is to catch a glimpse of love, and if all is darkness, should I not seek the light? To be blind no more, is to have her ignite the flame within me — I see only her.

“Hi, can I have a bowl of soup please.”, I say as if I’ve never been in here before. She asks me which kind, and I’m at a loss for words, I had just walked in as if in a trance, I wasn’t even hungry, for soup. “Today’s special”, I state hesitantly, but it’s a valid response, she turns to prepare it. I hope it’s something I like.

It wasn’t. I bring the bowl back, just expecting to place it and leave. She notices the fullness of the bowl and asks what’s the matter with it. I told her I don’t prefer yogurt-based soups. She asked why I ordered it then. I said I don’t know. She smiled! She actually smiled! I panic and leave abruptly.

Her smile haunts my thoughts for the rest of the day. But not in a creepy poltergeist way, more as a pleasant memory that injects itself within my thought stream. But thoughts can only sustain for so long, at some point you need nourishment. So I seek out supper, I’m hungry.

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