Lost and found

Working at a "lost and found" wasn't Tim's first choice. However he could do his own hours and it was quiet most of the time. This would be a perfect place for him to start working on his book. Or so he thought, because this was no ordinary ”lost and found". It was so fascinating and mindbogglingly that in no less than one month Tim managed to write no more than one sentence.
At a first glance the place looked like an old and forgotten attic. There were big and small brown cardboard boxes scattered all over the place. In this boxes and on shelves you could find just about as much stuff as you can imagine. Objects of all kind and colors, tiny and big, some of them had no real value. Like ticket stubs or bottle caps. There was also a big box with photos of places. And this box made Tim wonder the most.

Like any other person, he started rifling through the stuff and tried to make sense of what this place was.
The first time a person came in Tim was even more confused. It was a young woman with blonde hair and red puffy eyes, like she's been crying. Tim immediately thought that she must have lost something of value and asked her if he could help. The woman didn't as much as glance at him, but went straight to a box in the corner and picked up a train ticket. Tim couldn't help but stare at her, for it seemed that the woman has been there several times before. She looked at the ticket intensely and then started crying quietly. Tim didn't know what to do. He never knew what to do when women cried. It was for him like driving on an unknown road with fog weather. But before he could decide what to do she left.

Soon enough another woman came in and took from one of the shelves a piece of a cable, sighed and left.

Tim realized that it was mostly women that visited and revisited the "lost and found". From time to time a man would come in, greet politely, pick up a photo of a place, stare at it, shake his head and then leave. Although, once, he saw a guy cry and hit one of the walls. That really scared Tim. He just got used to the queerness of the visits and then this happened. He picked up the phone to call the police and just then the manager came, like from nowhere, and put his arm on the man's shoulder and said "Soon it will be ok".
After the man left, a bewildered Tim asked the manager 

"What is this place? Who are these people? Where does all this stuff come from?"

The manager, an old man who seemed to know everything but the location of his glasses, said with a bitter-sweet smile "Sit down."
"My dear boy, this is a place of lost loves. All this stuff are mementos of the last time two people who were in love talked. This people that come in here, they are helpless that's why they come in here so often, they are not over it, they are nostalgic, they suffer, they need to cry..."

Tim's eyes got bigger and bigger. He was amazed and at the same time still confused.

"But what about the 'found'? Why in the world is this place called 'lost AND found' ?"

The old man sighed and as he stood up to leave said "Hope never loses faith in love and miracles. Who knows, maybe one day we will witness one" And he left.

Tim's brain started to make fast connections. He now understood the pattern and rhythm of the visits. He understood why it was mostly women who came in and weird enough he understood why this one time an arrogant girl came here and showed a picture to her current boyfriend.
Suddenly all that worthless stuff became as precious as gold and Tim felt rich and proud that he could be the guardian of lost loves. He proceeded to look through the pictures but now he saw them completely different. He tried to imagine all the stories that took place in those pictures. A train station. A courthouse. A restaurant. A busy street corner. A mall. A bench in Central Park. Tim felt his heart break into thousands of pieces. It was his bench. Their bench. It was the bench where he met Jane, a shy girl, with brown hair and a long scarf.
Ten years ago. It was a cloudy and cold day in March, but Tim decided it was spring and that he would go for a walk without a jacket. Jane was the only other person he saw in Central Park without a jacket so he sat down on the same bench she was sitting on. She loved spring too. They talked about everything and nothing. They laughed about something but he couldn't remember what about. They played truth or dare and a prank on a grumpy old lady. As this memories stumbled and tumbled, tears filled his eyes and all the three wonderful years they spent together came back to him. The warm hugs, the food, the games, the laughing, the presents, the crying, the silly dancing, the butterflies, that dreadful day he told her he has to move to California, the bench. The bench where they shared a last pretzel and a kiss.
Tim was crushed.
He cowered under the counter and started to cry still holding the picture. Questions started fighting in his head "Why didn't I call her? Why didn't I tell her to come with me? Why didn't I ask her to marry me?" They were so loud that he didn't even hear the door and the woman coming in. She looked around, heard someone crying and went in the direction of the sound.

"Hello? Anyone here?", she said as she bent down to see the person behind the counter.

Tim felt something tickling his ears. He looked up and saw a long scarf coming from above and that scarf belonged to a shy girl with brown hair. 

She found him.

Love found Tim.

Tagadam, tagadam, peste viaţa şi normalitate

Am mai scris eu despre trenuri si oameni in trenuri, dar nimic nu se compară cu ce am trait in personalul Bucureşti-Feteşti de la 18 si 10 fix.

Am ajuns devreme la gară, dar am stat pe o terasă la umbră. Greşeala nr. 1. La fără 10, cand am urcat in tren, nu mai era loc de mulţimea de puradei si nepuradei, cu dinţi, fără dinţi, toţi transpirati. Stăteau si pe rastelele de bagaje. Nu sunt rasistă, dar 'ai de capul meu, unde sunt zilele in care epidemiile mai făceau o selecţie naturala?

Am întrebat din compartiment in compartiment dacă au locuri libere. N'aveau. Ce nu ştiam eu e că trebuia sa negociez pentru un loc. Frecându'ma de'a lungul culoarului de toate epidermele am ajuns in ultimul vagon, in dreptul ultimului compartiment. Două persoane înăuntru, un tip in uşă. Norocul meu. I s'a părut că sunt drăguţă si mi'a făcut cu ochiul sa intru. Instant mi'au trecut 23 de scenarii prin cap in care mi se vindeau organele. De cum m'am aşezat doamna din faţă m'a luat la întrebări si m'a certat că mi'am luat bilet.
In momentul asta mi'am zis 'nu'i aşa rău'. Greşeala nr 2. De cum a pornit trenul a început si viaţa feroviara de zi a acestor oameni.
Doamna din faţă s'a ridicat, a scos hainele din geanta de rafie si nu s'a mai întors. La scurt timp a apărut un nene care vindea dintr'un sac, nu alta, caşcaval, pateu si salam. Daca luai mai multe primeai si pungă. Stil.
Nu s'a lăsat mult aşteptată nici tanti care vindea seminţe si 'bastoane'. In cel mai scurt timp podeaua a fost acoperită de coji de seminţe, aerul umplut de fum de ţigară si sa vă mai zic se manele? Nu cred că are rost.

Hopa, a apărut naşul. Acum e acum. Singura din compartiment cu bilet si as baga mâna in foc că din tot trenul, din moment ce controlorul a trebuit sa'si caute compostorul in geantă. Nimic despre ţigări, despre seminţe, a adunat banii si a plecat.

Ma apuc de citit. Curent mare, uşile, geamurile deschise, ai zice că ne aflăm intr'un container pe şine.
Trece un accelerat pe lângă noi. Zgomotul infernal ar fi fost de ajuns sa dai in incontinenta urinara, dar pe neaşteptate si violent a căzut lampa din tavan, abajurul, mai bine zis. Am înţepenit pe scaun in timp ce restul râdeau. Ce'au făcut cu el? L'au aruncat pe geam.
Ei bine, in acest moment am decis sa scriu.
Vreau sa recitesc si sa'mi amintesc de acest tren in care lumea circulă la bustul gol, fumează peste tot, se iau la bătaie si poţi cumpăra orice.
Totul la un leu. La naş.

Sunt fraiera si se vede de la o poştă

In august m'am mutat in Drumul Taberei si până la sfârşitul lunii nu am reuşit sa'mi iau abonament de RATB. Imi tot incarcam periodic călătorii si le si validam.

Se face că in una din ultimele zile ale lunii ma târam spre muncă printre pensionari si ai lor nepotei. Era una din zilele alea in care ma certam cu depresia si cheful, lipsa lui. Mi'as fi dorit sa ma uit in gol, dar dacă faci asta in autobuz lumea crede că te holbezi la ei.
Aşadar, neprivind in gol am văzut o bunica cu un nepotel care tot invartea in mână un sul de hârtii de un leu de care părea sa fie foarte mândru. Mai mult de atât, era atât de fascinat de ei încât nu auzea ce'i spunea bunica. Drept urmare a fost certat si i s'a spus sa'si bage banii in buzunar. I'a băgat. Ce era sa facă? Cu bunica nu te pui.

Vrum vrum, autobuzul a ajuns la Cişmigiu, unde au coborât cei doi. I'am urmărit cu privirea, pentru ca'mi plăcuse pustiul, si am văzut că atunci când a coborât i'au căzut banii. N'am stat sa ma gândesc. Am sărit de pe scaun, am luat repede banii de pe jos si am coborât repede după ei. N'am apucat sa le văd reacţia pentru că m'am întors sa urc înapoi, dar n'am mai apucat.
'Super' mi'am zis trantindu'ma pe bordură. Autobuzul plecase iar bunica dispăruse si ea cu nepotul de'o aripã.
Puţin mai târziu a venit un alt autobuz. Am urcat si am vrut sa validez cardul. Nu mai aveam nimic pe el. 'Grozav' am auzit in spatele meu. Erau controlori in autobuz. Între timp îmi pasa aşa de puţin de ziua in desfăşurare încât nu mai conta. Cu toate astea, stăteam cam prost cu banii si am încercat sa'i explic controloarei ce s'a întâmplat. Si m'am mirat. Se uita înţelegător la mine, ba chiar m'a lăudat pentru fapta mea cea bună. Mi'a zis apoi că nu'mi da amendă, îmi scrie doar un avertisment 'ca o vede camera'. Si ştiţi ce? Am crezut'o. Dintr'o data ziua se luminase. Nici nu m'am uitat la ce mi'a scris. Mi'a urat o zi bună si servici uşor. Am sunat'o pe mama sa'i zic 'uite ce om de treabă am întâlnit in Bucureşti.. Cine ar fi crezut?' Ziua mi'a rămas senină până seara. De fapt, până duminică, când m'a sunat mama sa'mi zică despre amenda care a ajuns prin poştă 2 luni mai târziu. Amenda de la sfârşitul lui august.
Duminica am fost încruntată toată ziua. Nu pentru că acum trebuie sa plătesc 100 in loc de 50 ci pentru că o persoană mi'a dovedit că dacă am încredere in oameni sunt fraierã.