Second Wind

The lift doors opened, as I stepped out into the light, largely contributed by the warm rays of the afternoon sun streaming in through the glass windows at the end of the room.

"I'm looking for a friend," I told the waitress as I stepped into the cafe proper, peering my head from side to side until I saw a familiar silhouette in a distance, at a quiet little corner of the cafe. Her head was tilted away from me as I walked towards her, peering out at the distant horizon stretching far beyond the cityscape below us.

"It's been awhile," she said in her soft and rather raspy voice, all without turning her head. I took my seat before replying, "Yes it has, too long maybe."

"Some things just don't change though," she said, subtlely turning her wrist such that the face of her watch faced me to give me a good reminder of the minutes that I owe her.

"Yes, indeed, like the location and circumstance in we which hold our conversations; somehow it seems to bear a deep sense of deja vu," I replied, blatantly ignoring her subtle hint at my characteristical lateness.

She finally turned to face me, and gave me a cold, wry smile of well-awareness, before curling her index finger around the handle of the coffee cup and bringing the corner of the cup to her bright red lips.

Silence fell between us as she continued to sip her coffee.

"You seem a little different," she said, finally breaking the silence.

I remained silent as I looked into and through her light, greyish-blue eyes.

"Something is amiss in your eyes my dear, you seemed to have lost something; you seemed to have lost the spark in your eyes... the spark of hope." she said, her cracking lips bending subconsciously into a slight frown. "They look so different from a year ago, you had so much more back then; hope, passion, anticipation, resolution, you used to have them in spades."

I looked at her unflinchingly for a few moments that felt more like minutes, before moving my lips to reply, "One year can do a lot to a man."

"There are some things that are hard to recover once you lose them, and naive optimism is one of them. You above everybody else, should be familiar with this," I continued.

"You knew it was not going to be easy, my dear, "she said, placing her coffee cup gently upon the saucer. "You were well-aware of the possible hardships along the path in which you chose to walk, and yet you still chose to walk it anyway, am I right?"

"Yes, I was well-aware that it was not going to be easy, but no one mentioned anything about it being THIS hard though," I replied, with my voice slightly cracking under the intensity of the emotions.

I took a moment of calming silence before continuing, "Choosing the path is one thing, but walking it is a totally different matter. In fact, these days, I don't even feel like I'm doing very much 'walking' to speak of."

"My dear, the path you chose is a bumpy one, it has always been. It's one that requires a certain amount of fortitude to muscle through," she explained. "If it were someone lesser, I probably would have *ahem* strongly advised them against taking it, but you...

I shifted my eyes away from her intense gaze to the much less-threatening sights of the setting sun.

"There was some thing else about you," she continued. "You had something else in your eyes, something that many are willing to foresake. You had ideals, and the thing about ideals is that: they always cost more, a lot more than compromise, in fact."

My soul stirred at the sound of her words, as I turned towards her to see the hidden compassion behind her piercing gaze.

"As always, my role is purely rhetoric. The question remains essentially the same as a year ago. The high road of material security, financial stability and mental comfort; versus the low road of unforeseeable futures, unpredictable circumstances and intangible riches?"

"Once again, it is up to you to decide for yourself what you REALLY want, and more importantly, the Price in which you are willing to pay to obtain it," she said as she raised her line-ridden hand to call for the bill.

"Time is of the essence and I'm sorry that I couldn't say a little longer to mope with you," she said sarcastically, with a crooked smile on her face. "After all, you're not the only one..."

"With a Date with Destiny. Yes, I know." I said, returning her the favour and forcing an equally tilted smile off the side of the cheek.

She looked at me and smiled. "You watch boxing, my dear?"

Taken aback at the complete irrelevance, I cocked an eyebrow.

"Yes, neither do I," she said, with her face twisting into a genuine smile buried deep within the wrinkles of time. "But I'm sure you've seen a match when a fighter is knocked to the ground, the referee is counting and he has this lost, disdain look in his eyes."

"Hmm." I said, prompting her to continue.

"Ever so rarely, there comes a fighter that is on the verge of being counted out, but he manages to get back on his feet, and spring back into the action and win the match instead."

"Yes, a 'second wind'. Some believe that it is a sudden rush or refuelling of adrenaline that drives one to experience a resurgence of energy. So what about it?"

"I'm not too sure if you've noticed this. But for me, most of the time, I can tell if the fighter who got up is going to eventually win or not," she answered with a hint of pride.

"Oh really? How?" I asked curiously.

"It's all in the eyes, my dear, it's all in the eyes," she said, as she rose to her feet.

I rose to my feet in accompaniment.

"Jeremy, it was a pleasure" she bidded.

"No, the pleasure was mine, m'lady," I said with a gentle nod.

She smiled briefly before turning around to walk away.

No sooner after she took 5 steps did I call out, "m'lady..... Thank you."

She stopped in her tracks and stood rooted at her spot momentarily, before continuing to walk away from me.

I sank into the chair and gave a relieving sigh as I stared down at the table. The bright red lip stick mark on her coffee cup caught my attention as I thought to myself...

"Perhaps some things really don't change."