Blind Date

And then we were there, sitting across a table from one another, and both struck by a conviction that we had met somewhere before.

We pored over the possibilities: places we might both have been, people we might both know. Nothing.

We couldn’t find a shred of evidence, but the feeling was so strong it made me feel queasy.

Like I was standing on the top of a tall building. Like I had just realised the tall building wasn’t everything I thought it was.

“You feel that too, right?”

“Yeah. I feel like I’m on the top of a tall building.”

We clung to the table.

Having eliminated those scenarios we might easily explain, we turned to the more far-fetched. I wrote a list on the napkin:

-Knew each other in a past life?
-Somehow related? Long lost brother and sister?
-Amnesia / our memories have been wiped?
-Some kind of simulation? Living same moments over and over again?
-Met (will meet) in the future / time travel

Around us, the whole of reality seemed questionable. I shivered to think about it. Nothing seemed very dependable now.

“We should try and act normal.”

“Ok.”

“Maybe order some dessert.”

“Ok.”

Reality began to appear more solid again, as if pleased with us. I thought I could feel it purring.

I just wanted to make sure the tall building didn’t topple over.