It's funny. Some people just grab your attention and hold on tight without ever intending to catch your mind in the first place. Sometimes you go for it, say hey and throw all your preconceived notions about meeting people out the window. And sometimes it works out okay. But I couldn't do it -- it was like there was something inside her that was -- well, not aggressive -- apprehensive, I guess ... yeah, apprehensive.
So this apprehensive girl walks in at about 10 to 11 last night, all demure and still quite powerful -- it was like she was this walking contradiction. She's sort of monochromatic, her hair and eyes and skin and jacket all this beautiful shade of brown -- her eyes reflect every light in the whole place, it seems -- that's not too hard, though, she shop's kept pretty dim. She's wearing this sheer color-splotched scarf that really stands out against the rich monochrome.
And I know it sounds funny -- weird sounding, even, but it was like she took one look at me and promptly decided I was very far beneath her on her own imperial food chain. And that I had no hope of ever moving up on that ladder threw me way off, too.
My eye travels then, beyond this customer to the man standing behind her. He doesn't say a thing, just stands in her shadow like some leather-jacketed bodyguard -- which, given her Hollywood attitude, is altogether likely even though the coffee shop's about as far as you can get from California without leaving the country, though maybe she was one of those types come down from NYC -- but why she'd come to this rinky-dink place is beyond me ... we're pretty grimy.
So I can't talk, right, I'm just so taken with her it's like my mouth won't work right. Instead she's looking at me and it's like she's reading my mind or something, the way she's just -- just looking at me. And "Water," she finally says. I blink, I don't know what's going on, it's like it isn't registering.
"A glass of water?" she repeats, her voice smooth and liquid. I blink again but this time it registers--thankfully. So, keeping an eye on her, I grab a clean glass from the shelf and fill it with water from the tap, which isn't far behind me. By now she's turned to her bodyguard and they're sorta looking at each other and I get to thinking maybe they're Together but who am I to guess at people's relationships? I turn back to her and she's quit looking at the guy--she's eying the glass disdainfully with this perfectly arched eyebrow.
"Is this tap water?" she asks like it's some kind of poison or something -- yeah, she's Class all the way and I'm hardly her type.
"Mm -- uh -- yeah," I reply -- somehow the words come out, I don't know exactly how. "I can change it."
"That would be most acceptable," she says and just stares at me till I take the glass and dump it out. I think there's some bottled in the fridge but when I check I can't find any.
"Uh, I'm sorry -- Miss," the title comes out like an afterthought, some hasty addition I was too stupid to think of before. I'm so dumb. "We -- uh -- don't have any bottled. Can I get you something else?"
She glares at me carefully, I'm this lower life form, this scum beneath her feet. It's like I'm under a microscope and I'm feeling completely gross. "No," she decides, and starts to leave.
Quick, you moron, think of something before she slips away forever! It's like I can't let her leave but I can't begin to imagine why -- I just know I need her to stay. I have to know more about her, I'm hooked. "Uh -- for your friend?" I suggest.
"He doesn't eat," she explains, her back to me as she's leaving, like it was something I should've known all along -- of course, how could I be so stupid? Of course he didn't eat ... bodyguards don't eat, right? Everybody knows that.
And then she pushes the glass and metal door, the bell's chiming and she's out of my life, gone forever. And it's kind of funny -- some people just grab your attention and hold on tight without ever intending to catch your mind in the first place.
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