6666

So while I was sitting in the parking lot of the ダイソー waiting for Yumi to show up, a small gray van drove down the driveway in front of me. Its license plate read 66・66, which caught my attention, so I glanced at the driver, and found him to be a young man with long-ish hair tinted orange. He swept elegantly into a space by the "recycle store" (not quite sure what that is?), and got out, so I could see that he was wearing a sleeveless black shirt and really baggy off-white cargo pants. I glanced back at that store every couple minutes and finally caught him coming out -- he didn't appear to have bought anything. He got back in the car and drove away.

So what? There is actually no point to this anecdote except that I decided I'd like to remember him. Something about him stood out as compellingly graceful and attractive. Of course I will never see him again, never talk to him, never know the first thing about him; and I'm fine with that. But this way his existence in my life won't have been completely transient.