Just another Joe

I couldn't work out their accents. Something eastern with a hint of North American. I shoved my hands deep into my pockets and closed my eyes the better to listen. One of them was speaking between draws on a cigarette in an over-dramatised way that had me recollecting Graham Greene.

It was all a storm in a tea-cup - overblown nonsense. The usual who's done what to whom and who's going to get it next. Tawdry nonsense, but I need entertainment so I closed my eyes and listened.

"If you can't be honest with yourself, you've got a big problem on your hands."

He could have been called Joey. In my mind, that's what I decided to call him. I christened him right there in the square with the traffic swirling past and people disappearing down the Metro steps and he didn't even know it.

I didn't have a name for his friend. I'm taking a liberty saying he was a friend. Could have been a connection of some kind - this is a good square for that kind of thing, and for eavesdropping.

"It's like falling out with yourself. What else have you got?"

The connection wasn't answering. Maybe he was nodding quietly and thoughtfully. Probably had his own thoughts, or chewing his lip waiting for the pay-off so he could disappear with the rest down the Metro steps. Perhaps he was letting Joey's wisdom wash over him like muzak while he watched the anonymous crowds through disinterested eyes, waiting for Joey to make his point, whatever it was.

"There are some times when you can get away with kidding yourself, and others when you can't. Times when it all turns to shit because you lied to the one person you shouldn't."

The connection let out a "Yeah." It escaped like a concession.

I paid the waiter and stood up to leave, glancing quickly at Joey and his companion as I passed their table.

Joey was leaning back in his chair staring into space, cigarette clamped in his mouth. He was drawing air to deliver his final wisdom. The connection swivelled his eyes just sufficiently to take in another anonymous Joe leaving the café.

A few yards on, I heard Joey making his point. The connection was too busy watching the stranger enter the Metro to listen.