I parked my car in front of Paul. I entered, and found the table we used to sit on empty. I stared for a while and the table stared back as if daring me to come over and pull the chair to sit. I did as I do each and every time; walking through the place with my long strides, not caring for whoever giving me looks of disapproval. They knew I would eventually come. I sat and motioned from over my shoulder to the waiter. I asked for my usual cappuccino and for an ashtray. I fished my pack of cigarettes and lit one, the drag of smoke did stuff to me like nothing on this planet could do, and that’s when the earth stood still on its axis because It was a blast from the past. I waited for myself to come. I drank my coffee and still I didn’t come. I fiddled with my thumbs while thinking of my old self, how I used to pin point my dreams on a piece of paper and how I paid too much attention on my self-awareness; reeling back and forth about my deeds, feelings and ways of thinking. I’ve always enjoyed the stay with myself, but I lost myself somewhere in between my past and my future. I never came this day. I go each and every week to the same place for the hope of my company; for the hope of talking to my old self. I guess sometimes when you get exposed to real life you get exposed to someone else inside of you, and when the time passes you realize that life has taken yourself far away from you; too far that you find yourself unreachable. Will I ever be able to get back in time and go to the place i called home? the place where everything has started; the place where I had my first dream, goal, motif and sacrifice.