The Stranger

Hey everybody! This morning I disembarked from the R8 Commuter Train at the Market East
stop.I wore civilian clothes,having left my fictional clown's garb back at the Cave .Note that I now have a full well-trimmed, salt and pepper beard and cut a striking image as I stepped onto the Market East Gallery platform.As I got to the top of the escalator (on a whim) I decided to ditch having breakfast at Mickey D's at 10th & Market Sts. because their loudspeaker music system was down. I like to dine by music. I stepped off the escalator and decided to have breakfast at a fast food chinese Juice Bar & Breakfast.The breakfast spot is in the Gallery,surrounded by round and square cafe'-styled tables. Music is piped in overhead.I ordered bacon,scrambled eggs,white toast and coffee and was deliciously tempted by the counter display of fried chicken breasts, wings & mac & cheese side orders which I did not buy...at least not yet! I think the salesman knew I was a first time customer & he really loaded up the platter with a healthy serving.I paid a bargain, economical price and sat at an empty four seat table.Around me were nearly some 30 or 40 such seating arrangements. Two seconds later, a stranger appeared and sat at a two-seater round cafe-styled table about five feet in front of me. There was one empty table between us. The stranger was an older black male ( around 80 to 85 years old) who sported a fully white beard and an intensely black beret with an authentic French-styled crush. He looked like he could have been my father.The facial features were uncanny! As I warily gave him the once over,a cute little blond passed through the table area thoroughfare.She looked at the old man, then at me and then made eye- contact with me and gave a warm smile. As I studied the old man, I was convinced that he had been a real resident of Paris,France .He had an old briefcase (which I surmised, could contain some sheet music and a will). He had no teeth and his breakfast was a fresh banana and a can of Coke. He seemed to wince with every swallow of the Coke. While the blond had looked directly at me,he did not make eye contact. He perused a Metro newspaper and occasionally looked worriedly past me. He had that old person's 'lost look' in his eyes. Was he looking back to the past or forward to a bleak future? I wanted to chat him up but was reluctant to invade his personal space . He looked like he could be an understudy of a character who plays my father in a movie that I am currently cast in . I wanted to get his card and perhaps contact him later.Then, I backed off as I thought,' Is this my angel or am I his messenger?' By now the Gallery Mall security guards were walking through and taking up their various posts outside the gated department stores. I felt secure that the security guards were now watching over the two of us as we had breakfast in the nearly deserted area. The old man read his newspaper and it reminded me that I had to buy mine . I gave one last glance at the old stranger, who I was now fond of and got up as I wondered about the chance meeting. Then, in the same instance,I wondered who was my angel,the old man or the cute little blond who gave the two of us that warm smile ??