strangerhood

Today finally I managed to define strangerhood better than the dictionary does.
I seek one stranger through another she-stranger.
The she stranger is somebody who believes east is east west is west, no mid way mind you. Somebody who seemed to believe life is a rule book to be lived by logic.
So when I asked her if she knew so and so, she followed the rules of introduction.
"Do you know what he does or where...what...and?"
"No," my mish mash head affirms her doubts about my ways, "No, but I know his full name". I suppress my temptaion to tell her "He lives above the table we meet across".
I spell three names as if I was giving her the best piece of information she could find at the place and she managed to mask her irritation with a well trained social smile.
It is at that precise moment when I saw her glint of disbelief at my mish mash head that I realize I had for one whole year found unquestioned trust in someone I knew by name.
Then I look down from above and watch strangerhood define itself on the ground below.
I guess sometimes you reach a point in life when a kick and a hug mean almost just different forms of touch.