a thought, a walk

"Er hey hi, I see you're deep in thoughts.. what could it be that you are thinking so deeply about in this cold night?"

Startled, I almost wake up from my thoughts. I look to my right at this stranger..a white European guy, in his thirties or so it seems, with long curly hair - the length reaching near about his chest and an interesting countenance writ large on his face.

I smile instinctively and continue to walk. Clad in my black overcoat, buttoned till the neck; my boots clanking soft on the cobbled bed of the street, my hair loose and my mind lost; hands deep down in pockets to warm myself against winter chill. I continue with my pace without even as much as a mild halt. He joins me in my steps. And now we walk together. I smile and reply "Yes, I had been thinking".

"But what?"

"Why would I tell you!", I say in bewilderment.

"Oh yeah! I'm a stranger, yeah? But saw you walking and looking down on the ground as you walked. I like petite girls, you know and I thought what could have possibly happened to her", said he in his crisp-soft English accent.

"Compact discs?!", I mutter silently

We both laugh and continue walking..

"And yes, it IS weird to to be talking to a stranger like this. But, perhaps that's why we are called strangers, is it not?"

"Yeah", I like his accent now.

"Can I help in some way? Ohhh no! Is it that you just broke up with your boyfriend? Because then I wouldn't wanna talk too much! You will make me your rebound love!", he says in jest.

"No! I did not just break up with my boyfriend!", I can't help but smile in amazement.

"You studying here? You at LSE?", he says point backwards from where I had begin to walk. 

"Yes"

"Must be good. My last girlfriend was from LSE too."

I nod along.

"So where are you from?", he asks gliding along with me..while I wondered if I was even on the right street.

"Oh, I'm from India"

"Indiaa.. sound interesting and where do ya stay in London?"

"At a hostel near Trafalgar Square", pronouncing it as Trae-fell-gar Square, much the way a tourist would.

"I love how you said that. Say it again!", he says and instead tries my way of saying it.

"Oh yeah, I know you guys call it 'Traaafaaalgar'; well, I am new to this place."

"Aaah you're new here. How long has it been?"

"About a month-"

"Just a month! Oh then you are what they call a 'London virgin'"

"I guess so"

"Enjoy this place! It has much to offer.. I hope we meet soon and catch up.."

He keeps going on about something as I interrupt him. I take out my hands from my pockets, pointing to him the street I needed to be on. We smile again and bid adieu. He offers his hand much as I would to a child.. and we do a little hi5. I turn around on the other street. Still cold and weary in the body. I can feel the icy breeze of the night brush up against my naked cheeks and my hair is pulled back by the gush of the wind.

Sliding my fingers a little deeper into the pockets of my overcoat, I continue on.