I was born with a mysterious power: telepathy. I can convey messages to others without any physical means. I used to believe that in this vast world, I was the only one who truly possessed such a gift. On the other hand, the world is quite small. It is small, yet complex. Or perhaps, it is forced to become complex precisely because it is so small.
My presence there was entirely coincidental. Yet, I cannot help but feel that overhearing that peculiar conversation was inevitable. It happened while I was drinking alone at a bar. Behind me, two men were sharing drinks. One was quietly knocking back tequila—I lost count of how many glasses he’d had. The other was loud and loquacious, though he hadn’t touched his drink.
“So I said to her: ‘You slept with other guys? Just how many?’ And she says one or two. If it were me, I’d have slept with five just out of spite.”
“Do you even understand what you’re saying?” the man pouring tequila stopped his hand. He wore a cap pulled low over his eyes, making his face almost invisible.
“Yeah, well. It just means there’s some other kind of love or romance involved now, right?” The talkative man finally reached for his glass. His glasses appeared remarkably fogged up.
“Anyway, just drink this.” The man in the cap poured tequila into the bespectacled man’s glass. His movements were somewhat rough.
“You’re going to say I got what I deserved, right? But we weren’t even dating. It was less than a friendship. I wasn’t told how she felt. Even now, it’s the same.”
“Well, I get that your relationship was complicated.”
“Exactly. There are too many weird rules and too many enemies. People butt in every time we exchange a few words. We can’t even exchange contact info. Isn’t it normal to think I’m being kept at a distance?”
“Well, regarding the contact info, sure—but you can’t be certain the people butting in are her friends, can you?”
“Yeah, but isn’t it normal to think you’re being avoided when you can’t contact them directly? Plus, she ignores me even when I speak to her. Isn’t it weird to expect me to approach her after that? It’s only natural to think I’m hated. So why should there be any complaints just because I messed around with another woman?”
“Well, I guess that’s just how it is. Let it be.”
“But she glares at me with such anger. Even though she avoids speaking to me directly. It’s not like I had a deep connection with her or anything.”
“I suppose it’s difficult when you’re in the same space. Avoiding someone completely is hard. And it’s not even clear what she’s angry about.”
“Yeah, I don’t get that either. In the first place, why did we ever think our feelings were mutual?”
“It’s a mystery. Maybe it was telepathy or something?”
“Ah, yeah. Right. Telepathy. If we can only communicate through telepathy, then there’s nothing to be done. Because I can’t understand someone’s feelings through telepathy.”
I was stunned. Telepathy!! Could there be others who use it? It sounded as if they meant they could send messages even if they couldn’t read the other person’s heart. This resonated painfully with my own experience. I knew all too well the complexity and helplessness of relationships that exist only through telepathic-like exchanges. I strained my ears to catch the rest of the conversation, but I heard nothing more except the ambient noise of the bar. Perhaps they had passed out.
I turned around. The two men were already gone. All that remained on the table was a glass knocked over on its side and another glass, still filled to the brim with tequila.
