QOD: Find a stranger and agree to meet each other in ten years.

We met at the bus stop near the library. I knew all the regulars on my route home, but I’d never seen him before. He sat across the aisle, winked at me, and started doing card tricks. Before long, most of the passengers were crowding around, keeping half an inch of butt on a seat to placate the bus driver. He kept us laughing for the entire twenty-seven minute ride to my stop. “Will I ever see you again?” I asked as I pulled the cord.

“Exactly ten years from today, same time, same place,” he said with a grin.

I think of him constantly, his engaging smile, those dark eyes, the black hair that kept falling over one eyebrow. Those hands, shuffling, fanning those cards. Legerdemain with a flourish. Was he teasing? Or does he shuffle and fan his days as easily as he does his cards, knowing where each one is at any given moment, able to slide it forth at will?

The library has always been a regular thing for me, once a week, rain or shine. Only now I go on Thursdays, that being the day upon which the exact ten years ends.