He tried the next night to see if 8:00 PM was her habit. Rows of bent iron stood steadily in a line beside him as he walks to the spot. Alas, there was no line at all. But there was the half-empty tin-can van. And of all the 18 chances the van could afford to provide, he was left with nine to wager on.

The twentieth hour of the day continued to undress itself halfway. People of no meaning to him assumed the nine chances, piece by piece slowly dwindling. This was the plot Fate played for him. And this whole chasing, and chancing upon, will not be an easy story to shape. He will have to wait, and wait, and might even forget that he is waiting. But that was the game. It was, after all, determining the values of a He and a She.

And so, after more than 30 sixty seconds, all the nine chances dissipated like a candle’s wick. The barker collected the fare. Fate has collected its share. And the van kidnapped him away from the meeting spot. His will wanted him to return. But what strong grip going home has on him. At least, he thought, the consolation of her face’s negatives meant something to write about.

As he journeyed within the thick blood vessels of the city, he noticed that he was inside a familiar belly. He was in the same warm spot. There was someone else in hers. How can someone miss a person he has only met for one ride home?

He stopped thinking of her for a while but José González, the culprit who writhes hearts, sang close to his ears, declaring a stick0up on his eyes for tears. But he had nothing to give. Why would he give him that pleasure?

He will find her again, after all. Fate may play the game. But faith can make rearrangements in the rules.

The ride felt like the breeze and tasted like pollution. It was fast and it was suffocating in the same breadth, for his thoughts swung him between the romantics of their story, and the tragedy of his naivety.

Closer to home, one bridge left, he tried one last time to catch a glimpse of the spot where the people headed as to her direction get off. But the features of the night’s mask was so strong that no face was recognisable. It was a lost cause tonight, he decided.

He looked at his phone with a flimsy hope of finally getting a message from her. But all he saw was that his battery down to being at 47% already. He just had to donate some attention to that if only for a second he could lift his dwelling on the fact that she was not in the same van or mind as him tonight.