Every Monday, I saw an elderly man buying two movie tickets, but he always watched the film alone. Curious about his routine, I felt the need to understand his story. One chilly Monday, I decided to sit with him, unaware that this simple choice would create a meaningful connection between us.
For me, the Lumière Cinema wasn’t just a workplace, it was a peaceful escape, where the soft hum of the projector and the smell of fresh popcorn made the world’s troubles fade away. The vintage movie posters on the walls seemed to tell stories from a time I had never lived.
Every Monday morning, Henry Grace arrived right on schedule, as predictable as the sunrise. Unlike other customers who rushed in searching for change or tickets, he carried himself with calm dignity.
Henry, a tall and slender man, always dressed neatly in a navy coat. His salt and pepper hair, carefully combed back, caught the light as he walked to the counter. And every time, he made the same request:
“I’d like two tickets for the morning show, please.”
Yet, despite holding two tickets, he always watched the movie alone.
As I handed him the tickets, our fingers briefly touched his were cold from the winter air. I gave a polite smile, but my mind was full of unanswered questions.
Why two tickets? Who were they for?
“Another two tickets?” Mia teased from behind me, grinning as she helped a customer. “Maybe he’s on a double date. It has that old-school charm, you know?”
“Or maybe it’s for his imaginary friend,” Jake chuckled, shaking his head. “He could be married.”
I didn’t join in their laughter. Something about Henry made their jokes feel out of place.
I considered asking him directly, even rehearsed what I might say, but when the moment came, I couldn’t do it. It felt too personal, like prying into something that wasn’t my business.
The next Monday felt different. On my day off, I lay in bed, watching frost creep across the window. An idea slowly took shape in my mind.
What if I followed him? Not to spy, just out of curiosity. With Christmas around the corner, the air was filled with a sense of wonder and the excitement of discovering something new.
The next morning, the air felt crisp and refreshing, and the holiday lights along the street seemed to shine a little brighter.
When I stepped into the dimly lit theater, I saw Henry already seated, his figure outlined by the soft glow of the screen. He looked deep in thought, standing tall as always. When our eyes met, he gave me a small, knowing smile.
“You’re not working today,” he said gently.
I sat beside him. “I thought you might like some company.”
He chuckled softly, though there was a hint of sadness in his voice. “This isn’t just about the movies.”
“Then what is it?” I asked, my curiosity getting the better of me.