True Love

A short story about finding true love.

One night, back when I lived in the city, I decided to give myself a break from my strenuous pattern of too much work and too little sleep and took myself out to eat at a small, authentic Chinese restaurant. At the end of my meal, my server brought a fortune cookie to my table with the bill. I've never been one to put much stock in such things as luck and destiny, but I've always been a person of tradition, and opening fortune cookies is a tradition which I've kept all of my life.

Inside, the small slip of paper gleamed under the fluorescent lights of the restaurant, printed with the words 'You will find true love tonight.' A charming thought, I folded the paper up and tucked it away in my pocket as I paid the bill, left a tip, and walked out.

On the walk home, I continued to think about the little slip of paper, allowing my mind to wander in the direction of such juvenile fantasies shared by so many adults. 'True love' is a very nice thought, though, I suppose. In a moment of very untraditional compulsion, I decided to take an alternative route, which wound through a small park and past a building embedded into a hillside with heavy concrete and brick balconies protruding from its sides. The building housed a series of small shops proffering coffee, clothing, and a wide variety of useless trinkets to passers-by, and at this time bustled with people, indicated by muffled noise from within, but the balcony closest to me was quiet, offering a nice spot to stand and think.

Taking a position in a far corner of the suspended patio, I coyly glanced over my shoulder at the occasional sounds of creaking doors and footsteps as shoppers and loungers came and went. The only other person nearby sat on the floor of the balcony a few yards from me, a young woman who looked to be near my age sporting trim, weathered jeans and a light sweater, and sipping a steaming coffee behind the screen of her laptop. 'So much for "true love,"' I thought. I've nothing against lesbians, but a lesbian I am not, and thus no potential lovers were in sight.

A half-hour went by and watched as it did as I leaned from one leg to another in my corner; meanwhile, the girl with the laptop remained entranced by her technology, people continued to go in and out of the building, and the city darkened to be illuminated again by street lamps, windows, and cars. Another creak came from the door, this time accompanied by an impatient clashing against its metal frame. I turned slowly this time--this time which may have been the tenth or the hundredth for how disconnectedly pensive I had found myself.

This time, however, I continued to turn. And this one, a tall man dressed completely in black, was unlike any who had come out of that door earlier in the night. This one carried a handgun in one hand and a large, dark case in the other. His face was panicked, clearly the visage of someone whose plan had gone horribly wrong. He glanced rapidly around himself as the screams of the crowd within the building softened with the closing of the door. He glanced at me, and we held eye contact for a long moment--a mistake on my part. He looked down, shook his head, and levelled the firearm at me. Unable to react to the situation, I closed my eyes. And then came a crash, and a loud bang. I opened my eyes.

The gunman stood where he had before, but between us now stood feebly the young woman with the tattered jeans. On her left, a cardboard coffee cup laid leaking into the pavement. On her right, her laptop sat toppled, a large crack in its screen. And as she stood, a dark hole in the back of her cream-coloured sweater leaked crimson onto its fabric. She stumbled and fell to the ground with a heavy thud, distracting the tall man as several officers ran onto the balcony from the opposite side. Upon their closing on him, he looked up at their commands to halt, turned, and fired several shots as he ran past me, none of which hit his targets.

I stood stunned, empty-headed, staring at the ground with crossed arms as an officer with dark, curly hair and a sharp jawline ran to the body before me and laid two fingers on her neck. He looked up to his comrades and shook his head, a serious but almost pained look on his face. He then stood and approached me, leading me to take a seat while several other officers chased their quarry. I continued to hold myself, staring ahead until I was addressed again by the officer. His eyes were firm but compassionate, glistening in the harsh police examination lights being set up on the scene.

I've never been one to put much stock in things such as luck and destiny, but I learned that night to trust the wisdom of fortune cookies. My fortune that night was true: I did find true love. It was housed within a stranger to whom I was not attracted and whom I had no inclination to meet. It was unconditional and selfless, without warrant or recompense, and now, without continuation. I think about that girl often, about the love that she had for someone who would likely never love her in the same way, and I am inspired knowing that this love is not dead in the world--if nothing else, because I hope that it lives in me now.