He looked across the hectic room, with no idea why. He was happy reading. The book was insightful and funny; the open chicken sandwich was tasty and fresh, he had no reason to look up at the busy cafe. He didn’t need to see the customers coming, going, eating or desperately trying to control unruly toddles in rickety high chairs. It was a strange compulsion indeed for somebody such as him.
He was glad he had when his wandering eyes met her oval brown pair.
She smiled back.
He looked around quickly to see if there was another more worthy recipient.
Nope. Didn’t seem to be.
When he looked back she was smiling wider than before. Not mockingly. Almost invitingly.
He smiled back. Before nervously returning his gaze to words he could no longer discern.
When he looked up again she was chatting to another lady.
His chance seemingly gone.
Damn! He thought. She’s stunning!
Not in a conventional, twenty-first century plastic bomb-doll way. She was almost unearthly.
That’s it, he thought. Unearthly.
He snatched quick glances at her. Her beautifully sculpted figure was like a magnet to him.
She sat like she was floating in the chair. Her every movement flowed like it contained a deep, beautiful, alien message.
He cringed inwardly at what must appear like he was a stalker, gawping.
Give up, dickhead, he scolded himself. You buggered it up.
He turned back to the book, feeling his cheeks redden.