He Is Quiet And So Am I

He is quiet and so am I. He sips tea with lemon, while I drink coffee. That's the difference between us. Like me, he wears a wide, striped shirt, and like him, I read the evening paper. He doesn't see my secret glance. I don't see his secret glance. He's quiet and so am I. He asks the waiter something. I ask the waiter something… A black cat walks between us. I feel the midnight of its fur and he feels the midnight of its fur… I don't say to him: The sky today is clear and blue. He doesn't say to me: The sky today is clear. He's watched and the one watching and I'm watched and the one watching. I move my left foot. He moves his right foot. I hum the melody of a song and he hums the melody of a similar song. I wonder: Is he the mirror in which I see myself? And turn to look in his eyes…but I don't see him. I hurry from the café. I think: Maybe he's a killer… or maybe a passerby who thinks I am a killer. He's afraid…and so am I.