Ships in the Night

 While out for my coffee at the Daily Baguette this morning, a woman and a man stopped for a moment at my table to say hello. An attractive young woman, a handsome young man. And I had no idea who they were. 

"Oh, hello!" I responded nonetheless, in a tone, I hoped, of familiarity. "How are you?"

They were fine, as it turned out, particularly the young woman. The man kind of stood back politely, cueing my brain to recognize that I probably did not really know him, but must somehow know her. 

After some brief small talk, about the weather or something, the woman suddenly uttered an unusual sentence. "Will you be coming by the Permata today?" 

Ah ha! The bank. Permata bank. 

Now, the fact is, I have only been once to that bank, and that perhaps half a year ago. But she had given me a place to go with the face, you see? Not that I haven't seen her face any number of times, for I have. This is Putri, who used to work with Louis at a different bank, and whom I have seen occasionally through the years at various gatherings or meetings. 

Obviously, there would be no reason for her to suspect that I might be coming to the bank this day. And so, obviously, she had let that word drop because my confusion, however I tried to hide it, was clear to her. 

Well, perhaps ten minutes later, I'm engrossed in the book I'm reading when another woman emerges from the cafe and stops at the table. 

"Hi, Richard!" 

So here we go again. Now who the heck is this one? 

"Hey! Good to see you," I exclaim cheerily.

But she is in a hurry, can't stop, must hurry on. 

So ... well ... I guess we'll never know.

I've written before about this facial recognition problem, associated with MS. Or is it just senility? Or both? Who knows. It is in any case embarrassing.