Sometimes I go to a café
and imagine someone sitting with me at the same table.
We’ve known each other for quite a while.
He sits slightly hunched, yet seems at ease.
He speaks Russian and I speak Chinese,
but we understand each other.
I can see the excitement in him as he explores the city.
I’m glad he has left the manor and is traveling now.
He is still seeking opportunities to become a writer,
with nothing settled yet.
But that’s okay.
I’m simply happy he is alive.
I first imagined him from a character in Chekhov’s play.
I resonated with his struggles in love and creativity.
Later, I realized I had my own version of him:
in the play, he attempted to take his life twice and finally succeeded.
In my version, he somehow survived.
The deep despair he carries
is a proof of how much he, or I, wish to live.
I take a sip of my coffee and turn on my laptop.
He still sits there, enjoying himself.
I’m working alone, but I’m not alone—
my past despair moves forward with me.
From the cafe,
Truly
Nov 16, 2025
p.s. Sometime I hum while working:
Lyrics: “Keep working on business strategy.” 「繼續商業策略規劃」