I imagine myself traveling to an unusually perfect city. Somewhere in the north, perhaps North Carolina.
I imagine myself hearing cars, taxis, and a few bike riders pass by with that high pitched bell sound alerting other drivers or pedestrians to get out the way.
I can see the warm sweet autumn sun beginning to set, sitting in the middle of the cities main tourist site.
I see Christmas lights beginning to light at every other shop down the main street.
There, I sit at a small coffee table amongst the other native city dwellers. I become unnoticeable.
No one knows who I am, but I know and I become so comfortable. Others walk by into their daily regimen run of coffee shop.
I sit at the coffee table drinking a more than affordable cup of hot cinnamon and mint tea. Sip after sip I become less insecure and more comfortable about the city scenario that I begin to fit in to.
There I am, dressed in a nice dark green coat , with a red scarf to warm my chest and neck, black tights, and brown high knee boots.
A mother and father walk by with their bossy 2 year old daughter who points at the cookies she wants at the coffee shops counter. I laugh inside.
As the night takes over, I see the city come to life.
Musicians begin to emerge.
A saxophone soloist begins to play a, warm to the soul, jazz/blues selection.
I sit and watch, filled with joy, as If this were a normal day, 2000 miles away from my normal life.
Christmas music plays from the cities light poles.
I look up and see mistletoe , covered in fake snow.
I look at my phone and its 8:30 p.m. Time went by, and I quickly finish my last sips of tea, catch a taxi which takes me to the train station.
I’m in the train, alone again, but surrounded by travellers with their own untold stories.