Life is something that happens when you can’t get to sleep.
Fran Lebowitz
The afternoon was a quiet time on mundane days. Unless new visitors are to be acquainted with the place, the constant members were not to be seen during those hours. Ms. Coffee was tidying up while humming a song she listened to earlier. At that very moment, she started to wonder what today’s discourse would be. Although she never suggested or commented on the issues, she always enjoyed listening intently to the ideas around the table. They usually occupy her mind in her leisure time.
While she was pondering on her understanding of healing, Mr. Cynic walks into the café. He distorted the pattern of her thought at once, she hastened in his direction. “Mr. Cynic, how odd to see you at this hour? How are you today, sir?” “I’m well, Ms. Coffee. Would you do me a favor and bring me a fresh, brewed coffee?” He wished to conclude the conversation before she lingered to inquire him about his day. He needed a cup of coffee in his blood before he endured any conversation with anyone.
Moments later, Lady Creativity walks into the café. She sat beside him in silence since she felt his negative aura all over the place. When he realized that she was not going to utter a word about his countenance, he whispered a greeting to acknowledge her presence. She only said hi. Neither he nor she was in the mood to chat.
After an hour of silence and consumption of two cups of coffee, they glanced at each other. “do you wish to talk about it?”, he sighed. “Only the subject,” she replied picking her cup once again. “Mine would be about romantic wrinkles,” he sighed again. She gaped at him feeling like he read her thoughts. “was that what your subject was, too?” He gave her a half-grin while playing with the spoon in one hand. “I wouldn’t dream of a better phrase. Besides, it is quite uncommon to hear you use that phrase. From the looks of it, you were the one person I would’ve guessed to win over his emotion more than anyone else. Are you married, sir?” He was not surprised by her remark for he has heard it too many times by now. No one ever knew or guessed what become of him was because of too many emotions he had felt once. Perhaps, too many times.
“Lady Creativity, did you really think I was always like this? Yes, I am not married. But, I have loved. And I’ve been heartbroken. Did you think one can mention the topic of healing as a mere objective observer of pain? Don’t you think that was a hint of emotional bewilderment I had with myself?” He waited for her reply. “Yes, but, surely romantic wrinkle wouldn’t be my first guess. You are so content with yourself, Mr. Cynic, we barely think of you as vulnerable given to emotions like ourselves. I do not wish to be an additional person to misunderstand you or put you in a box that you don’t fit. But that is the usual assumption one could get from few acquaintances.” “Do not worry, I’m not offended. You just seem to be a keen observer and I wanted to hear your first impressions of me.” He said and both chuckled forgetting the cloud of sadness they wore in their eyes.
“How do you come up with such a title, though?” She inquired. “Because…” Both felt his shortage of words was because of unrecovered wounds of love. “I avoided romance for the fear of agony it would result. For the wrinkles and scars that would be imprinted on my heart. And yet, I stood wrinklier than ever for all the times I’ve let myself feel love.” He tried to hide his despair in a rather few words. Words that could never suffice the reality of truth he felt inside. “I bet this is not an issue for you now that you’re married?” He rather stated than asked. Lady creativity gave him a smile that did not reach her eyes and said, “you would be amazed to see the wrinkles of my heart if it were ever possible. I am forever tied to my pain and the ultimate cause of my wrinkles. Yes, I do not resent or regret the life I have. I most definitely am what I am because of it. But, wrinkles! Oh, the wrinkles would never fade or straighten because you are married, that I can say for sure.” “You must not be talking about the wrinkles around my eyes…”, said Mr. Exhaustion settling beside Lady Creativity. “I wouldn’t dare, for million years! Your Greatness!”, said Creativity in not so loud voice. “I’ve never heard of that title before. Is that, by any chance, your real name, sir?” Followed Mr. Cynic. “yes, yes. I once was Mr. Greatness. Big deal! So the wrinkles?!”, replied Exhaustion.
The squad seems to gather after a while. Miss Imagination and Over-thinker came together following the engaged couple. “Romantic Wrinkle! Why would you link such words together? It is unfit to hear.”, shuddered Miss Imagination while adding sugar to her latte. “Just drink your latte, Hallucination.”, called out Exhaustion. “I believe there is no better combination for these two words. I…”, gulped on his coffee and continued. “I believe the huge waves of love are more than capable of forming crinkles on one’s heart. And it would be more than wrong to assume that anyone is free from them. It could not be romantic love per se. But the love you have for your mother, or friends or to life itself results in a wrinkle time and time again.”
Everyone pondered on his comment for a while. Ms. Over-thinker then remarked, “even the love you have for your thoughts, the obsession you have for definitions in life, or affection and admiration you give for things you construed in your head are powerful enough to scar you for life. To scar your innocent heart due to the lengthened affection you acquire.” Ms. Coffee cleaned up the table while silence reigned amongst them.
“Can we talk about something happy now?”, inquired Imagination after a while. “Please do, darling”, said Anxiety eagerly. Mr. Cynic and Lady Creativity exchanged a look for a moment and exhaled. The night went on in a pleasing tone filled with laughter while these two kept on zoning out for the most part. Anxiety followed talking about her exciting day, and everyone seemed to enjoy the merry spirit. As it was Friday night, all stayed for a bit longer than usual.
Near to midnight though, only Mr. Cynic and Lady Creativity remained where they were. “I feel like a statue sitting here for so long”, said Cynic. “Aren’t we a statue, a moving statue anyway? We rise, walk, and sit being polished for someone else to see. Straightening the wrinkles of our hearts not to resurface on our skins? But yes, we are numbed for sitting for too long, aren’t we?” She returned her face to his. “For more romantic wrinkles on the way!” He raised his glass of water to collide it with hers. She nodded with a shred of agony on her face. “I must leave now. Tomorrow has already begun. I should go and polish myself, don’t you think?”, said Mr. Cynic and left the shop at once.
She rather lingered at the shop scribbling a few words in her notebook. And when she finally took her eyes off her notes, she saw her husband walking in her direction. He did not leave her as the letter he left suggested. He reached and hugged her tightly for so long. She felt her eyes wet, her throat closing up, and her heart forming, yet, another wrinkle.
Unabridged Manuscripts 
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