I look over at the lady, she has her MacBook on the table, I see her delicate fingers glide smoothly over the keyboard, typing away. Next to it, a notebook and a pen.
I notice her hair, --wonder how I hadn't the first time -- it's wet from the rain outside but beautiful nonetheless, just like everything about her. Her wet hair is sticking to the side of her face. -I wonder if she knows this.- I want to walk over to her table, tell her about the hair sticking to the side of her face and offer to push it to the back of her ear. Instead, I take a small bite of my croissant and sip from my cup.
She looks up and I quickly look away. I fear I might have been too late and she caught me staring at her. What a horrible man I must be for that. -- this won't happen again --
I devour a few more chapters of David Baldacci, I look at my wrist watch, 9:27 pm. Thirty-three more minutes to go before I leave this cozy café. My gaze drifts from my watch to the direction of the lady. This time, I cannot get myself to look away. I hardly notice her looking up from her MacBook, she catches me staring this time. -- I would hardly call it staring, I would say admiring. Although I don't think she would care what I call it-- She must think I am a crazy man.
When I noticed she had caught me, I quickly look away. -- what have I done? – My hands start to shake and my heart pounds hard against my chest, so hard that I can almost hear it.
I quickly fumble in getting money from my wallet which I leave next to the coffee cup, with the five dollars I always tip to my waiter friend. I hurriedly pick up my bag and stand up, ready to leave. --She has caught me staring at her, the beautiful lady, and now I must make my exit with haste--
"Leaving so soon, Monsieur?" My waiter friend asks me, in his deep French accent, as I head for the door. This is the second time I hear his voice ever since I started coming to this cozy cafe.
I give my waiter friend a nod, -- as I always do-- I could not tell him why I couldn't stay until my usual 10 pm when the sun sets.
"Enjoy your evening monsieur," he nods at me.
" Merci mon ami," I reply to him and proceed towards the door with the little bell above it. I try to be careful with my steps, I do not want to bump into any of the tables, or worse, stumble and fall. I have embarrassed myself enough for one day.
The doorman, my very good friend whom we have never uttered a word to each other, pulls the door open for me. I give him a nod, to say 'thank you' and goodbye. Perhaps he too is wondering why I am leaving earlier than usual. He nods back and I step into the not so busy street, it is still raining but I have no choice. I cannot stay in the cozy café where the beautiful lady caught me staring at her. To my right, I see the beautiful Eiffel tower in all its glory. I walk in that direction as I think what should happen to me if I came back to that cozy café and see the beautiful lady again. Oh, she must think of me a silly man. I should never come back here again. But where else could I ever find such tranquility? And such good coffee? Paris is a big city, finding a cozy cafe with profound tranquility and good coffee is near impossible.
As I walk under the little showers of rain, I decide that I am not giving up my cozy little café, -- mind you I have no justification for calling it mine--
I will come back tomorrow at 8:30 pm as usual and go to my spot. I don't know what I shall do if the beautiful lady comes, I hope she comes, so that I can see her again. -- perhaps I should tell her she is beautiful --
No, no, she must already think of me a very silly man....