She sat at the coffee table. She watched her hand stir her coffee on…and on…and on….
She was pretty sure that she’d dissolved every single sugar particle but she kept stirring. She wasn’t even in the mood for coffee. She’d needed to leave the house and well…the cafe down the road seemed the best place to escape to. She had, after all, spent the last five months in her house. The joys of being a writer, she smiled bitterly. No one forced her to leave her house. Her friends had tried and failed. She couldn’t face them. Not yet. She was still stinging from that day…
“Woah there, pretty lady! You’re about to stir that coffee off of the table!”
She snapped out of her thoughts and looked up at the person. She managed to stifle a gasp. A fine looking man was standing in front of her, a heart-warming smile on his fa. She gulped.
“Sorry,” she spoke quietly.
“Mind if I sit down?” He asked. She wanted to say no but was surprised to find herself nodding. What are you doing? she asked herself. He sat down and smiled at her. She suddenly felt self-conscious of her attire – a plain summer dress that was in serious need of bright colours.
“Who was he and what did he do?” He asked all of a sudden . Her eyes widened. He smirked.
“I have five sisters,” he explained. “I know the drill.”
She shifted in her seat uncomfortably.
“Besides, I was their personal punching bag,” he pulled a face. She giggled. The laugh sounded so foreign to her.
“You have such a beautiful smile,” he complimented her. “One wouldn’t guess that you’re a serial killer.”
“A serial killer?” She asked, stunned.
“Cereal. You know, Cheerios, Froot Loops? I saw the way you were stirring that coffee. Lord knows what you can do to poor innocent bits of honey-coated grains!”
She giggled again.
“You’re crazy!” She couldn’t stop laughing.
“And you’re too beautiful to be sad!” He countered. She calmed down and looked at the good-looking man with the chocolate brown eyes.
“My fiancè left me at the altar five months ago,” she sniffed. “Cold feet of note.”
She sighed with relief. It was the first time she’d mentioned the drama without bursting into tears. She looked at the table. She felt his hand tilt her chin up.
“Please go out with me,” he spoke quietly.
“You don’t know me,” she replied, stunned.
“So I’ll get to know you,” he replied.
“I-I’m not ready to date,” she stuttered.
“I-I don’t talk to cereal killing women but here I am talking to you,” he smirked. She smiled.
“But I don’t even know you,” she tried to enforce that with conviction but it wasn’t there.
He put his hand on hers.
“I’m Tim,” he replied. “And I want to make you smile. I want to make you laugh. I want to make you believe that you do deserve to be happy.”
She didn’t know what to say.
“Think of me as your personal funny man,” he flashed a cheesy grin. She chuckled. She was amazed. She hadn’t smiled let alone laughed in months yet this random guy had managed to make her laugh at least four times in the space of fifteen minutes.
“I’m Anna,” she replied. “Friday at 8. That’s when I’ll be free.”