I see her. She sees me. A spark ignites (that was my lighter).
I hear my heart thumping. It is pounding madly. It is palpitating. My cigarette is still dangling in my lips, and the lighter flame is burning incessantly. As I light my cigarette and inhale the smoke full of carbon monoxide and tar, she looks away from me, only to look back at me. I feel an uncertain unease. I can visibly see that she is checking me out. I feel vulnerable, and shy. I adjust my shirt collar and pull back my Rahul Roy hair. My friend, whom I shall refer to as Dingo hereafter, nudges me. He signals me, with a semi eyeball rotation in an odd angle. I signal him with a slight The Rock eyebrow lift ( asking him what?), and he nods like Paresh Rawal, with all the burden of the earth and creases of his face on his forehead. I exhale the smoke and sigh another of distress. He nods again, and looks at his pointed-tip (wing-tip) shoes and mulls over the probable course of action and reaction. I consider his invitaion, and mull over the same course, which I can but only think of as inanely as possible. Suddenly, I hear a Dirty Harry background score and the Clint Eastwood in me rises, only to defeat itself with the rise of Chirstopher Walken's aloof disposition. I drag one last of my cigarette, look at Dingo. He valiantly gives me a Tom Cruise thumbs up and smiles the widest grin I have ever seen on his face in a very long time. I prepare for the proper course to be taken, and the whole methodology flashes in front of me like any black and white flashback. The background score is all violin, but I don't seem to see any difference as it is going to change in a moment to a full orchestra.
I turn back to look at her, and she is still looking at me. I cough a brief ahem and walk onto my destiny. I am calm. My heart is still pounding. I need to do this, otherwise it will trouble me for the rest of my life...errr..rest of the night at the least. It is like that constantly nagging pain in the neck which goes away with only Excedrin Tension Headache pill, and I don't have any right now.
I am nearing towards her, inching a single step nearer to her than I was before. I feel brave, and my internal prowess is not less than Shahrukh Khan when he runs away with other people's wives and fiancees and girlfriends. I wish I won't have to chance upon any Shahrukh Khan in my lifetime, or that I could be him. Finally I am there, where my destiny awaits me. I push the door, and enter inside. After I am done with the deed, I wash my hands with the soap they had in the dispenser, which oddly smells like bleach. Anyways, coping with the smell, I come out the door. My mission accomplished, I look about to find Dingo, still in his profound mind altering thoughts. He nods me one brief one. I give him another Tom Cruise thumbs up and smile a half cracked Javier Bardem. I, in a slow-motion, with the back ground of The Crystal Method's Keep Hope Alive walk towards him, occasionally looking back to see her. She is still looking at me, with a straw dangling from her lips, eyes as wide as shut. I feel like Chow Yun Fat, aloof and carefree, and the cool as ever.