We made eye contact. She had an Espresso and coyly looked up from her hardback edition of “Second Hand Souls” by Christopher Moore. So she likely has a warped sense of humor, I think to myself. I darted my eyes away to avoid the cardinal sin of staring. My chai latte was getting cold anyway. I was scribbling notes haphazardly on a memo pad thinking that I was a real writer. Through peripheral vision, I noted her looking at me a couple times. It was either horror or intrigue or maybe a splash of both. A fantasy romance quickly ensued only to be vanquished when the last sip of chai was consumed and I realized she already left the café.
Quick fanciful look
curiosity was piqued
she looked back at me
yet hence the moment did pass
she fades into memory
Wow
Next time I get stared at, I'm sayin' Hi! Cool write, writer.
Lady A
I probably should have said
I probably should have said hello but I was way too shy