After years of email correspondence,
WhatsApp messaging, postcards sent
from various parts of the world,
my doppelgänger finally has agreed
to meet up at the Starbucks
in Heathrow Airport Terminal 2
during his short transit.
My latte macchiato is getting cold,
my eardrums filled with monotonous
announcements, my eyes getting sore
gazing at the departure board
that keeps updating itself.
Five minutes past the hour,
then ten minutes, half an hour …
my hands twitch and my legs numb,
wondering if he is as reliable as me.
How disappointing, and unworthy,
if he’s not!
I still resent his postcard sent
from Hawaii to my boyfriend
leading to a week-long interrogation
of where I had been.
I logged into his Netflix account,
first disappointed with his taste,
then changed his password.
We are like twin brothers,
born into this world together,
separated after birth, aware
of each other’s existence,
and destined never to meet.
As I’m running out of patience,
beginning to rise from my seat,
ready to leave, I notice a person,
with an identical look and stature,
also wearing glasses and looking nerdy,
walking rapidly out of Starbucks
and disappearing into the crowds.
How similar we are
sitting in the same café,
obsessed with ourselves,
and forgetting to look around!