All of it had happened before. Sometime. Somewhere. In some other life. The Van Man was certain of it. He sat in the coffee shop and read an article in the newspaper that he knew he had read before. The couple to his left was in the middle of a break-up. And Van Man had seen it before. He had already watched the woman feel bad for ending it and the man hang his head in defeat. The entire moment was a replay. Van Man was certain of it.
Deja Vu had a mystifying way about it. Like Sinatra singing, it seemed comforting yet supernatural. Van Man knew it was all in his brain. He was too logical to believe in spooky things. But spooky things happened to him. Always had. One night his sleep was interrupted by a feeling of being taken out if his body. When he opened his eyes, Van Man found himself elevated off his bed, three feet away from the ceiling. He had been a teenager during this event. He could blame it on drugs, but he had not taken LSD yet.
The Break-Up Couple continued their break-up. The Man whined a bit. Van Man thought that Man had a really whiney voice. The Woman was in full control of the situation. She wanted out. Van Man understood why. And the feeling of feeling that feeling before rushed through his system. A spooky feeling indeed.
Not as spooky, however, as the time when a checker board flew off the dining room table right in front of Van Man. No one was around except for him. And he was nine years old. The checker pieces spilled all over the ground, loudly. It was certainly spooky. Van Man was nine years away from drug experimentation. But Van Man grew up and realized that strange things happened in life. That was fact. Strange was only that because it was not explained. But everything had an explanation. Human evolution took care of that.
The Break-Up Couple left. Van Man knew they were headed to different cars. Not because of some spooky Deja Vu. He had seen them come separately. He sipped his coffee and Van Man read the Times. There was the front page article about extremists shooting up a French Paper. All in the name of spooky things. At least the Sun's out, The Van Man thought. And he left the coffee shop.