Stranger.

The night air was balmy and filled by its usual dose of unidentifiable insects and baseless chatter.

“What would you do if I died?”

“Is this one of those ridiculously feminine questions that I have to answer tactfully?”

“You wouldn’t know tact if it bit off your ear and stapled it on your eye.”

“I’m thinking, but I honestly think there is no real response to that kind of mental imagery.”

“Hahaha. The foreigner’s a joker. Pardon my barely controlled hollow laughter.”

“It’s very rich of you to call me that considering this is my homeland.”

“Yeah, right. Have you heard yourself speak the language? Now answer the question.”

“I’ll have you know that I am wonderfully multilingual. And I will also have you know that you’re turning into a girl, my boy. A girl.”

“Uncalled for! I’m not a girl. I’m all man. I’ll prove it to you.”

“As wonderfully appealing as that sounds, NO! Yuck.”

“So answer the question!”

“What? What will I do if you die? I dunno. Probably go to your house and steal your music collection. And iPod.”

“That’s what you’ll do if I die.”

"That’s what I’ll do if you die. Why?”

“Nothing.”

“Okay you felt bad. You are turning into a girl.”

"Uh huh.”

“Okay, okay. Fine. I’ll drown in misery and uhhh… set up some sort of memorial home for you.”

“And then go home and steal my music and iPod?”

"No no, by then I’ll be a famous altruist. They’ll give me that stuff for free. So your music and iPod are safe.”

"Haha, right. Sooner or later you’ll squander all the money away doing something foolish and sell my music and iPod for money.”

"Well, yes. That’s a likely scenario, too.”

"I’d miss you if you died.”

“I didn't ask."

"Obnoxious hag.”

"Excuse me. I am not obnoxious.”

"And I’m not devilishly handsome.”

“That’s right. You’re not.”

“You’d miss me if I died.”

"Why do our conversations always revolve around death and misery? There are happier things to speak of.”

“Because you’re a gloomy and miserable person with a cactus like personality. I can’t help but be filled with despair around you.”

“That’s rude. And you’re still a girl.”

"I’m NOT A GIRL. You’re a girl.”

"I am a girl.”

"Sure you are. You should really look up a dictionary before you call yourself that.”

"You should do the same before not calling yourself that.”

"Shut up, brainless. You’ll miss me if I die, won’t you? Won’t you?”

"What’s wrong with you? Just shut up and go paint your nails or something.”

"You will. You’ll miss me if I die. And you’ll write about it. And be sad. Haha. Oh, yes.”

"Fine.”

"Fine?”

"Fine.”

“Okay, then. Fine.”

A few moments of silence followed. The cars raced past. The warm air grew marginally cooler.

"Listen?”

"Yeah.”

"Don’t die, okay?”

“Okay.”

The cars still race past, and the warm air is still balmy and filled with insects.
This time, though, there’s no baseless chatter.
But you're still right there. On that step.
And you'd give anything to know why you're still searching for the face of a long gone stranger in the familiarity of the streets.