If this was a fool's errand before (and it was), it has definitely entered uncharted realms of hopelessness now. But I feel compelled to keep trying all the same. The special nature of the encounter and what I perceived about you, the uncommon circumstances under which it all occurred, the tender way in which you said goodbye as you departed after dining with your friend and what I presume was her little tyke, are all sufficient, both individually and certainly collectively, to make me hope against hope. You were (and are), in any case, much too good-hearted to not at least respond to a message like this, and whether you felt the same way or not, if you ever saw it. And so I'll probably just continue posting it until you do. Or until Craigslist issues a cease-and-desist. Whichever comes first. :-)
It was Monday morning, 11/6, around 10:00 or so when I walked into Egg in Williamsburg, and you were there alone by the door reading the Marathon section of the NY Times. I asked you where you'd found it, and you replied by telling me it was already there and giving it to me in one fell swoop. That was the first indication, however small, of your exceptionally kind and generous nature. It was then swiftly revealed in greater fullness in the course of our ensuing conversation by the manner in which you spoke, and the things that you said. Simple, common phrases like, "Enjoy your breakfast," and, "Take care. It was nice meeting you," assumed new layers of meaning and sincerity when you uttered them. You mentioned watching the marathon in Greenpoint and being incredibly moved by it, which further speaks to your generosity of spirit, too. Seldom, if ever, have I encountered someone whose graciousness is so unmistakable and pure.
I live in Seattle, and was only in New York to run the race. You, or anyone you know (who knows it is you of whom I speak), are unlikely to ever see this, and we're unlikely to ever speak or see each other again. But I prefer to cling to the possibility of a different narrative unfolding, however remote and improbable. And stranger things happen via the Internet all the time. Is it really so absurd to hope for a little longer, at least, to be added to those wondrous annals of fortuitous occurrences?
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