This is how the story goes. One lives at a place for ages, without meeting anyone special. Then, one decides to move on, to see other horizons. One pack everything one owns, buy the plane ticket, sell the pet, and get ready for the big trip, and of course, a week before take off date, one meets someone special. Or maybe not special as such, but with more potential than anyone one met for the three years one spent here. And not one, but three… irony is wasted on the hopeless. A year and a half ago, I met this guy. Which, do possess the best set of stomach muscles I have ever encountered. He was so sweet, and we had great fun. But, of course, as the story goes, I was to leave three days later, and be away for three months. So, we left it at that. And, as he spoke of going overseas as well, so I figured he wouldn’t be around when I would return. Saying our goddbyes, and not one phonenumber given out between us. And life went on. Yesterday, while trying to negotiate a rather tricky cab line in the middle of the night, I hear someone calling my name, and there he was – again (and yes, he still have the best stomach I have ever seen). It should be mentioned that it took a good 20 minutes to figure out who he was (hey, I didn’t expect to see him ever again), but I did at last. And according to the story, I will of course leave next week. A year and a half have we lived in the same city, frequented the same pubs and clubs, and even shared friends, without ever meeting each other. And when we do meet, I am on my way to some other place. Life is cruel sometimes… or maybe not so much cruel as having just a rather twisted sense of humour.