音無 芽留 (Otonashi Meru)
“Silence is the perfectest herald of joy: I were but little happy, if I could say how much.” -William Shakespeare, As You Like It
The bitter cold drove the normal customers inside the cafe. Most of those sharing the outside winter air with me were smokers, their nicotine addiction taking precedence over their disagreement with the weather. I myself was content with my coat and my hot coffee for warmth. Besides, if I moved inside I would have to deal with the cacophony of all those people crammed together all shouting their idiotic lives at each other. I would much rather deal with the bite of a gust of winter wind than the screeches of my fellow man.
And so I sat, sipping on my quickly cooling coffee, staring blankly at the sky, enjoying the relative quiet of an empty terrace looking out on an empty street and puzzling about the little things in life, when a small girl ran 'cross my vision. It was clear she was in a hurry. Looking at my watch, I figured she was probably late for her morning classes. As she dashed by, the clatter of plastic on cement brought my attention down by my feet. There laid a small, red cell phone, its various lights plaintively whirring and buzzing at its harsh treatment. The girl must have dropped it in her rush to get to class. By the time I picked it up, she was well out of sight – so much for handing it back to her. I pocketed the phone and sighed, deciding that I'll figure out what to do with later. Continuing to nurse my now-cold coffee, I sat and stared at the grey overcast.