coatman

I wonder if he’ll smile back?”, Jane mused as she passed the menu back to Callum, her favorite waiter.

She had been staring shamelessly at a man sitting in the corner across the restaurant ever since he came in. The man was alone and he had a disheveled, almost pitiful countenance about him. That’s strange, she thought, as her eyes documented his every detail. He was wearing his coat indoors and tapping his fingers nervously. His furrowed brows signaled that he was meticulously poring over the menu, carefully reading each item, perhaps slowly computing in his mind the effect each decision would have on his pocket. Jane noticed that it was the second time he had asked the waiter for more time.

Every night after work save the weekend, she would pop in, grab some dinner, flirt with Callum, and then head home. She loved the place because she felt so safe there. Normally, she wouldn’t have paid much attention to other diners. But this man intrigued her. He kept tapping his fingers on the table in a peculiar fashion, and although she couldn’t hear it, she was certain it had a very distinct beat.

Jane felt so drawn to his strange demeanor that she ignored Callum when he returned with her food. She knew it would only be a matter of time before he became aware of her brazen glare.

“Is everything alright, ma’am?”, he asked with a wink.

His voice pulled her back to reality. “If I do need anything, you’ll be sure to know,” she replied mischievously, “but whether or not you can satisfy that need is still the question.” Cue coy laughter.

Her attention was faltering and she was torn. The moment she was alone again, she turned back to the man who held her attention like a vice grip.