Attraction can either be good news or bad news.
About a week ago I was sitting on the steps of Sophia’s when a waiter came across the street from the bar I haunt. He said that he’d seen me sitting here, and wanted to know if I wanted a cup of coffe.
I was flummoxed.
I stammered an answer, “Uhm, no.”
He then retreated back into the bar.
I never saw him again. That is, until last night.
I came into the bar late at night after dinner. There was only one barstool free, so I took it.
It was right next to Corey.
He turned to look at me and what immediately caught my eye were his eyes. Big, wide and sparkling; a jaw full of scruff; long hair pulled back into a ponytail.
I said, “you’re the waiter.”
”Yes, sir, and you’re the writer,” Corey replied.
And the next three hours are now a blur.
A blur, but a delicious, lingering, haunting blur.