Calvin WalkerI have a confession to make: you were the reason I couldn’t stop smiling that day in the coffee shop.
My coffee shop since I had never seen you there before.
Up until you sat at the oblong table placed in the center of the floor, my entire day had been one crackling flash of disappointment after another. I didn’t get the apartment I applied for. Some neighborhood slug stole the catalytic converter from my car which was in the shop to have it replaced. Oh, and I was positive I had a stomach virus that was making me shit my life away.
That or the fact that I was on my fourth latte of the day.
Anyway, my table was near the entrance and gave me the perfect view of everyone entering the cafe. You included. It was clear by the way you waltzed in with that young, intern-looking lad on your heels that you liked to be warmed by the spotlight. When you walked past, I could smell how expensive you were. Your clothes fit you so well, a dedication to the gym on full display. I normally get turned off by gym bunnies, but your suspiciously large hands made me pause my judgments. They seemed soft. Free of calluses.
What do you do with those hands?
The lad had a goofy grin on his face the entire time you spoke. There was actual light dancing in his eyes! He probably felt like he was sitting across from a brought-to-life character from The Wolf of Wall Street. To be fair, the way you crossed your legs and spoke with such an even-paced cadence was ‘confidence’ personified.
“You have to remember there are no ‘bad’ leaders,” you eventually said with a chuckle. “Just bad people in positions of power. But don’t worry. I’ve got your back.”
God, you were such an American hero!
I chuckled to myself and looked back at my phone. I sent a text to my friend about you and, when I glanced up again, you’d shifted in your chair. Your entire body faced mine now. Our eyes locked, the slightest upward curve on the edge of your mouth. You gave a nod, eyes never wavering. Embarrassed at being caught in your line of sight, I scrunched my mouth in a dopy smile and dropped my attention back to my phone. A few seconds passed before I dared glance in your direction.
You were still watching me.
My phone started buzzing with a call. Someone from the car shop. I knew he was about to tell me how much the repair cost and how there were other things that needed to be fixed. I didn’t care. The smile that had spread across my face stayed in place as I popped up from my seat and dashed outside to take the call.
While I stood in the blistering summer sun, you and your lackey exited. I thought you’d acknowledge me in some way. Maybe stop and ask for my number. Tell me how beautiful my smile was. That you were sick of playing games and wanted something real. But you didn’t.
I knew then that I’d probably never see you again. I was okay with that. You’d burst from the cafe waving your hands and rambling about feeling sorry for people who didn’t understand why dividends mattered.
In 3.5 seconds, you went from a stud to a generic douche bag dud. Talk about disappointing.
