For three months, I have come to this cafe every morning, just for a chance to catch him sitting at his usual spot across the street. Some would call this stalking but I beg to differ. It’s not stalking if the stalkee cannot see the stalker. I wish I could just cross the street and introduce myself but every time I got up, my heart would start pounding and legs would buckle, I simply couldn’t do it.
“When are you gonna go over there?” My friend and waitress, Laina, asked one day.
I quietly sipped my coffee, “How about never.”
Each week, Rochelle Wisoff-Fields-Addicted to Purple hosts Friday Fictioneers where we’re challenged to write a piece of flash fiction in 100 words, more or less, based on the picture above.