From afar is enough.

He's sitting there. Same spot, same drink, but never the same mood. Today, he's kind of grumpy. Maybe annoyed by something or...someone? I never see him with anyone, just by himself, sitting there alone with his coffee, sometimes paired up with a croissant. I watched him every day; I never missed it. Call me a stalker; I don't mind. If this is the most I can do, let it be. I can't just go over there and say hi, can I? How can I tell someone who doesn't even know my name, not to mention my face, that I'm attracted to him? What if he freaks out and walks away, never to sit in that chair again? I will lose him forever. So much better this way, watching him from afar.

Some days, he looks my way. I almost think he can see through me. But that's impossible, right? I always go back to my reading when he even slightly moves. I am on the same page of the book as I was last week. I was so busy reading his mind that my book was forgotten. How I wish I could have told him I wanted him to be my forever. That's impossible, I know. Again, he doesn't even know of my existence. How did I get into this situation, you ask? Well, it's really simple. One day, I just decided to enjoy the view for a moment from my book, and there he is, sitting so handsomely over there. In my former favourite coffee shop. I lost my patience that day because I couldn't find a seat in there. But now? I love it here, in the over-the-street breakfast café. Why? Because by sitting here, I saw him for the first time, and every day since. So close, yet so far. It's okay, I'm used to this set-up. Watching, just watching. I fell too deep into my daydream, I didn't realise...

Oh my god, he moves! He's crossing the street now. And his eyes—his eyes were staring right at me. Oh god, help me. Did I get caught staring at him? Oh, I better go now. Where's my bag? Come on, come on now! He's already standing at the door. Standing so handsomely. Shit! 

 

I'm defeated in my seat. I'm going to lose him. He stood still for a few seconds before he walked to me. I keep silent, staring at my book cover, "How hard can it be?" Well, the book didn't tell me the answer yet, because I'm too busy staring at one particular handsome human. He took it slowly from my hand and read the title. "So, tell me, Miss Staring, until the object moves on its own accord, how hard can it be? How hard can it be to come to me if you need something?"

I squirmed in my seat and felt like I had been caught stealing something. "You did steal; not a glance; I mind you. You were staring right into my soul. Don't think I didn't notice from the start." Damn, did I say that out loud, or did he just read my mind? "I don't... I'm sorry, I didn't mean to stare; it's just..." He smiled. Oh, he's beautiful, too. More beautiful than handsome. "What? You just want to look at me? Okay, then I guess you are not interested in me personally." I gasped. "No! That's not what I mean. Yes, I mean no, that's" He cuts me off with his chuckles. "Relax, will you? What do you want from me? Let's see if I can help you with it."

 

I look up at his face. His eyes are beautiful. "Your eyes are so beautiful." He smiled again, making his eyes crinkle. So beautiful. How dare I wish he was mine? My eyes returned to the floor. "Don't be shy. How about we start with whatever it is you want, with a name, perhaps? What's your name?" Oh, is this really happening? "Well, if you don't want to tell me yours, I'll tell you mine first. You can simply call me yours." He winked and pulled up the chair beside me. "Oh, so this is the view you got from here? Well, tomorrow we can sit over there so you can see how I saw you." I smiled at him. Maybe he could be mine, after all.