mardi, février 4

Foot battle sabotage #1 #chronicles

At night. Sometime during the year. 

As usual I was in the métro going from one point to another. Crossing Paris through it's belly.

I had my headphones tucked in my ears. Maybe listening to GusGus or Pink Martini or Arthur H.
I was sitting there daydreaming on music.

A guy sat by me.
His right foot, the closest to my left foot, got close to mine. Then he got closer.

I put my legs away.

He got even more closer.

He twisted his body a little bit but didn't get too close so not to annoy me a lot. I thought.

At least it's what I think. Still today.

Tiwisting his body as if he was showing something to me.
I then noticed the paper or sort of paper jacket/note he was holding on his lap.

Being curious by nature I wanted to know what was written.
I tried to read without showing it. 
Easy, just let my hair (I have a lot) fall over my eyes.

He wanted me to read. He was expecting.
Something like "battle of converse" was written  there. In capital letters, red.

It said "A girl wearing Converse takes her foot away from the guy wearing Converse. He gets closer. She goes away. They go on on this battle until.... a café... together...."

The text continued. I didn't read. 

I looked at my feet. I checked I was wearing one of my Converse.
I noticed that he was also wearing a pair of Converse.

He wanted to play. I see. I saw then.

I discretely looked at him. 
Not at all a top model type.
Jeans, white t-shirt, a light jacket in his hands, a back pack (like students do).

No interest in responding to his gag.
Well no interest even if he was Mister Universe, Magic Mike or Steve MacGarret.
Aaah. Maybe if it was one of the last two of the trio.

He was counting on his neighbor curiosity to start the 'battle'.

It didn't work.

I didn't react to his paper. He was twisting himself to allow me read it better.
I didn't react. I continued in my thoughts. 
I waited for his reaction.
Switching expectations.

He got up and off on the next station. And hopped in another wagon of the métro.
He wasn't interested in no reaction.

Rha! Gotchya.

He wanted to play.
I wanted to listen to my music and go home.

He looked for another Converse opponent for that night.

I'll never know what happens when the battle takes place.

I don't want to know.
I don't care in fact.

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