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The man in the suit is always here,
and is always sitting on the same seat, at the same table-
I always see him typing on his laptop,
and is always quiet and smartly-dressed,
and is never disturbed, and I have never seen him ever
do anything to take notice or to make trouble.
The man in the suit is and has always been a mystery to me-
however, every time I come back here
I can always rely on him being here,
wearing his suit and tie, his shiny-shoes,
and his gold-coloured framed glasses,
and to always be where he is,
doing what he does, typing and engrossed in his computer screen,
and I am not sure if even he realises how long he himself
has been here, nor how many times he comes here,
nor what the time or the day is.
On the other hand, however, it is highly-possible,
and more likely, that the man in the suit
knows exactly what he is doing,
and he, like me, and like most people who come to Starbucks
all the time, he has a story to tell about himself
that I wouldn’t believe-
and I must admit I would give anything to ask the man in the suit
who he is and what he does,
but that is just because I love a question,
and I love a great story,
and I am in awe of someone with a secret
who keeps the rest of the world guessing-
like the best character or protagonist in any great
and compelling story does-
and in all honesty, no matter how much I would love
to know the man in the suit’s secret and who he is,
I would genuinely be happy to never know every thing,
even though knowing everything any way is impossible,
and I would remain happy just seeing him there
where he always sits in the corner by the window
doing his thing and keeping the mystery about him
that has always intrigued me alive and well.
I have only heard the man in the suit speak only once
in one conversation he was having on his red-covered mobile phone-
I remember him having an ‘educated-‘ ‘posh-‘ ‘intellectual-‘
sounding voice and accent, but unfortunately I do not recall
what his phone conversation was about-
but I think it had something to do with the sale of someone’s home.
There are places that I come back to regularly,
because I always feel at-ease here, and there,
inspired, at-peace, refreshed-
where I am even recognized as someone who genuinely loves
being where I am and coming back,
and to me that is the reward of any pursuit.
There are people who you see every day
who make you smile for many different reasons,
and I have to say that I always smile too
when I walk into Starbucks and I look around and I see
the man in the suit.

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It must have been something that I read;
it must have been something that I saw, or heard;
it must have been something that someone said;
it must have been something in the colour,
or in the sound of a word.
One minute I am staring at the vibrant red cover of a book,
and then, the next thing that I know, an entire hour has passed-
I am in shock, as if I have been hit by a truck.
I felt like I had been newly thawed-out
after having been frozen in time-
I cannot account for anything that happened in that lost hour;
however, everywhere that I looked now,
everything of the colour red instantly jumped out at me,
more so than before, as if it were by design.
Buses, telephone boxes, post boxes, the Union Flags red crosses-
everywhere that I went, every shade of red was in sight and in my head:
from the crimson curls of a beautiful woman’s hair,
to the attention-seeking red light at some traffic lights
telling me to stop up-ahead.
Cars, clothing, flowers, insects-
a Porsche racing passed me; a man wearing a British Heart foundation t-shirt;
the roses in someone’s garden; the ladybird that landed on my nose-
everything that could be red was red,
from the largest to the smallest of things and objects.

I do not know what was so special about the day,
nor why red of all the colours of the rainbow
chose to brighten the colour of my blood for those few hours-
maybe I looked too close at the pictures of Venus’ transit across the sun,
or maybe my mind needed that gift of a powerful colour
to make me forget about the grey clouds and the showers.
I am sure that I once read that there are some people
who believe that the universe is colour-coded;
I personally do not know for sure, but I do believe
that colour can compel us, on occasion, to see, feel,
and act in a certain way- like the tightening, or the loosening, of a thread-
that is what happened to me:
one moment I am seeing stars,
and the next I am seeing red.

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