I attach a great deal to whatever I stumble upon in test units in mobile-phone stores, say some random notes thereon may hint of something about my future, or that I feel a profound sense of wonder seeing a selfie of a person I swear I had dreamed of but haven’t even met.
So as often as I would look at the sky for good signs, or write my phone number on the seat back in front of me when riding a bus, I scribble things on notepads of test phone units like “I am sorry,” or “Mama loves you,” or “Let me tell you right now how much of a crack head you are,” hoping that, by coincidence, someone chances upon them, and realizes they perfectly match his longing for these words.
I was doing just that at a mobile-phone store at a mall this afternoon when I stumbled upon a selfie of my college teacher on a test unit. Of course, my first impulse was to laugh, snot shotting out of my nose, because we knew this woman as a sulky, “terror” type, one that is typical of old spinsters who, under any circumstance, would refuse to smile even when a camera is shoved onto her face. But here she is, smiling ear-to-ear, a pony-tail, sunglasses, her fingers doing “Japan-Japan.” By all appearances she looks beautiful in the picture, but then again I never saw her so happy in her life.
God forbid it was a coincidence and I detest thinking that it has anything to do with me. But I also wonder if, like me, she is a great believer in coincidence and whether she left it there on purpose, hoping against hope that someone picks up the phone, stumbles upon the picture and realizes that she is someone he swears he has dreamed of but has yet to meet.