Throughout the meal, we proceeded to compare scars left by the unfortunate, albeit character-forming events of our lives. The commonalities were astounding: a carbon-copied upbringing staged hundreds of miles apart, only to be reunited by circumstance.

A platonic bond had formed, yet the whole occurrence felt foreign. I’ve made my share of friends and lost them to either negligence or proximity. Our bantering, though, had an uneasy comfort, like sitting on a warm public toilet seat.

Perhaps it was because it took no effort on my part. I was most certainly present, but my words and movements were not my own: a spectator watching reruns from an obscure, uncharted island.

An insurmountable amount of time passed. We finished our food, although I had no recollection of the presentation or taste of my meal. My guess is it was ‘usual.’

The waitress brought over the check and causally placed it between us.

“Pay that whenever you’re ready,” she lied through a hollow smile and arched her neck to check the clock, which was certainly broken. I attempted again to check my watch, but something stopped me. Before he could lift his mammoth arm to begin his reach, my hand was quickly pulled on top of the check, as if his movements were under water and mine on dry land.

Arm  -  wrestle         me         for         it.

| 5 |

He belted a loud, squealing laugh that startled patrons around us. Understandably, no one objected to his volume; not even a dirty look was flashed, as his laugh reached the far corners of the diner.

(cmon man you kiddin)

I          am          entirely            serious.

He suspiciously looked around as if part of an elaborate practical joke. Stolen looks quickly snapped back to their respective tables, fearful of confrontation.

You          will          obviously          win.              

Consider       it        my       treat,    then.

Or,      how        about      a       gentleman’s          bet?

He was apprehensive at first, but I could plainly see his curiosity take over him.

(hath anyone ever told you thpeak funny)

I stared at him blankly, unfazed by his inquiry. The wrinkles on his huge forehead clearly narrated his intentions, as he opened his oversized hand and propped his elbow on the table, shaking the flatware and disturbing the calm water in our glasses.

(leth go)

He sequentially bent his fingers.

I could feel my eyes smile, which made my face contort and stretch as if awoken from long dormancy. I moved our drinks out of harm’s way, raised my elbow, and placed it on the table in steady, calculated movements. My arms felt like they were being used for the first time, with only years of voyeurism as reference.

Glancing at his flexed bicep, I noticed it was easily twice the girth of mine. I could feel uncertainty clawing to the surface, but my doubt was transformed into calm confidence. Our palms met, cupping the air in between them. The hollow clap bounced off the greasy walls, and our grips tightened.

I         will           count          to              three.

His eyes widened, barely containing his anticipation. We simultaneously settle into our chairs. The table nervously seesaws over the sloping floor.

One.                 Two.                 Three.

He let out a grunt. Our colliding forces pulsed through the table and into the floor. Others around us were blatantly watching, no longer stalking our table in their peripheral.

His arm flexed against mine, ready to mock me with a free meal. However, when met with my resistance, his face changed from confidence to worry. My hand slowly guided his towards defeat.

A bead of sweat crested down his temple; teeth gritted and breath held. The veins in his forearm popped and spread up his arm, inflating the obnoxious designs of his shirt.

His face flashed back to the bullying of his junior-high days, then the pain and dedication he endured to obtain his current physique, which appeared to be accomplished in vain. His self-worth liquefied, absorbed into my arm, and extinguished his strength. Disbelief and desperation overwhelmed him, as he glared at his lowering hand.

My expression, however, did not change. My focus was centered between parallels, stranded between slumber and coherence. Sheer excitement attempted to break into my consciousness but was transformed into echoes of peace unlike any tranquility I had ever felt. My body relaxed and released pent up chemicals, like blood painfully rushing to a sleeping limb. I felt weightless and free—floating like I never had before. I closed my eyes.

The moments of my life stretched and condensed into a panorama, allowing me to recognize the sum of my choices and the consequences that followed. My blurry motivations came to a sharp focus. In a moment of clarity, I discovered something I'd forgotten: spontaneity. It was through this spontaneous act that I was able to experience joy: a simple emotion easily forgotten after adolescence, if ever attained at all.

Until this point, I was preoccupied with mundane structure and predictability. I continued to follow the same regiment even after I lost it all. I was a slave to routine; bound by my fear of risk. Day after day of the same details sped up time and aged me at an accelerated rate. I became boring, lazy, and unable to see beyond my thin perspective.

Influenced by fear clothed as doubt, I turned down adventure for the comfort of certainty. When an opportunity arose to break the chain of normality, it was this fear that kept me on a narrow path. My potential to exceed the limits of happiness was sacrificed for my faith in solid ground. Even when I'd experimented with various vices and virtues, there remained an underlying hesitation to fully commit. Keeping my risks low became my safety net, eliminating any possibility of greatness.

This pattern would’ve continued for generations, had I not realized my own floating tendencies. My pursuit for happiness was at an end, or so I had thought. I slowly let out air through my nose and opened my eyes to a new, undiscovered world.

| 6 |

I focused on his hand inching towards unfathomable defeat. My mind was void of any doubt, however, my ears twitched at a low hum followed by a glimpse of a rapid motion. I didn’t fully process what it was at first, as if this distracting tangent had traveled light years to meet my consciousness. I hunted for the source and looked at my left hand clutching the table for balance. The broken focus jarred me, like I hadn’t moved for hours.

The buzzing gradually grew louder and vibrated my left arm. Reaching my ear, it deafened all other senses. The hands of my wristwatch spun at blinding speed, confirming the commotion. They cut the air and continued to uncontrollably vibrate my entire body with increasing ferocity.

The look on my face retreated into something much more familiar: astonishment. As my expression changed, the intensity of my resistance faltered. Our hands whipped in the other direction, and my right hand slammed the table with an incredible thud. The impact shocked the water out of our glasses. Silverware bounced off the surface of the table, sending it all crashing down to the bumpy floor.

I let go of his hand and sat back in my chair feeling drunk. Everything slowed, failing to react to the unfolded events.

My head was swimming in oil. Half of me was clinging to absolute peace; the other half was frantically processing what had occurred. I tried to breathe to sobriety, but my environment was robbing me of air and playing tricks on my drowsy eyes.

The objects around me melted into a painter's palette, flattening the three-dimensional scene into splotched acrylics. A rainbow of amoebas held their pose but eventually moved, each one tethered to an individual purpose. They collided in mitosis, reproducing unnamed pantones.

The dancing colors slowly shifted into recognizable shapes: used napkin, dirty fork, brass coat hook, people, faces, pregnant floors, and crooked seating. My usual waitress stared at me, confirming my existence. My opponent sat speechless, betrayed by his assumed strength.

I was losing clarity by the fist-full. I feared I would never again capture this euphoria, but it soon vanished into unbridled excitement. Already, I was eager to face my next opponent, but my body was too spent to move. Time mimicked my exhaustion and remained sluggish.

I tried to focus on the presumably broken clock above the entrance, but it remained a smudge of grey and white, shifting with the surrounding colors but never mixing with them. I pictured the clock’s true form and willed it to comply, but the heavy weight of my eyelids hindered any ability to induce sobriety. With little resistance, I let my eyes close, submitted to the current, and floated into a deep, peaceful sleep.