Just a piece of Flash for your Monday morning.
He sat down at the table right across from mine; the man with the dark hair and darker eyes who showed up every Tuesday afternoon right at three.
His head bent low, protectively, shutting me and the rest of the world out as he began writing furiously.
Wonder what it’s about…
I took a sip of my coffee and watched his face, all scrunched up in concentration and tried imagine the thoughts going on there. Were they of me?
His face flushed lightly as he put down his pencil and looked up, straight into my eyes.
It’s finally happening, I thought, feeling my own face flush. It had happened this way in at least two of my dreams; he’d put down his pencil, and finally looked up and saw me, but now was different, now it was real.
He didn’t make a move to stand, though, like I’d always pictured him doing, so I did. I stood and took the few steps that took me to the edge of his table.
“You don’t know me,” I began, saying to him one of the lines he’d said to me. “But I’ve seen you here, every week Actually,” I continued, laughing nervously, “you’re the reason I come here. The only reason.”
I stood back, waiting for him to do his part.
His notebook was shoved into his bag almost as fast as he got to his feet. He left even faster.Enough snickers came from the tables around me for me to know I’d never be coming back there again.