drink before his trip down to Fox. While in line, he caught a girl’s eye. It pleased him to catch it. He was glad he’d worn his good tie. She was in front of him, long-haired and slim, though not too slim. The Timberland boots made her appear taller than she actually was. She wore a denim mini skirt and a sheer blue blouse. He liked the backs of her slender legs and the roundness of her hips. Her waist was tiny. She turned around, glanced at him. He affected a neutral face and stared intently at the specials board.
“So what’s good,” she said.
“The buns are pretty good,” he said. “The morning buns, I mean.”
She faced front. A few moments later, she turned around again.
She had a soft voice and a large shy smile. She wore feather earrings, thick black mascara, red lip gloss. She was a glowing bohemian rhapsody.
“So, what else is good?” she said, looking up at him.
* * *
@survivalchick21 1:32 p.m.
What a difference a day makes. I am watching a completely mismatched man and woman fall in love before my very eyes at a coffee joint on Melrose and Gower. When my day began, it sucked. And now it doesn’t.
#CoffeePlusFood
#love
@survivalchick21 1:33 p.m.
He is an immaculately groomed Mr. Arms with deep-set eyes and designer stubble in a custom-made suit. She is a hippie chick in a tiny skirt. The only hippie thing about him is his wavy hair, down to his neck, slicked back behind his ears and partly tied in a hot little bun.
@survivalchick21 1:35 p.m.
He is prim and she is improper. He is tightly wound and she is all flowy.
@survivalchick21 1:36 p.m.
I don’t know how they started talking. I wasn’t paying attention. I think she started it. He doesn’t seem like the forward type. He doesn’t need to be, does he.
@survivalchick21 1:38 p.m.
Suddenly she’s telling him she’s an actress and used to work at some joint on Coney Island, and on and on. I don’t know what he does. She won’t let him get a word in.
@survivalchick21 1:41 p.m.
Next thing I know they’re off about boxing, and he’s staring at her like he can’t believe the words pouring out of her.
#dying
@survivalchick21 1:44 p.m.
Every syllable out of her mouth he receives as a gift. She doesn’t even see it, she’s so worried as soon as she stops talking, he’ll lose interest. She talks, and he grunts mostly yes. When she smiles, he instantly smiles back like they’re the same star reflecting in one mirror.
@survivalchick21 1:47 p.m.
I thought they just met, but I heard her say O my God I know you! They gape at each other like Meredith and Christina on #GreysAnatomy. You’re my person!
#prayingforlinetogoslower
@survivalchick21 1:49 p.m.
He took off his tie and stuffed it in his pocket. Like he couldn’t breathe!
@survivalchick21 1:50 p.m.
She tells him 49 is her magic number. He says he never cared for it himself, plus it’s rather high. His is 7. She smiles and says that’s rather low. She asks if 7 has any special significance and he TURNS RED! But recovers in time to smile and say no.
#!!!!!!!!!!
#RIPme
@survivalchick21 1:54 p.m.
I can’t. She just asked him to give her a ride, and they left together. Am I allowed to follow them to find out how it turns out?
#restrainingorderanyone?
@survivalchick21 11:30 p.m.
I can’t stop thinking about them. It’s a cynical world out there, I know, but I’m telling you, it happened in front of me. This morning I was flatlining, and this afternoon everything had changed.
* * *
She kept turning around and staring at him. He kept smiling politely.
“Sorry, but didn’t you come to my play a few weeks ago?” she asked.
“I don’t think so.”
“New York? Cherry Lane Theatre?” Theatrically she spread out her arms and said in a British accent, “I’m dead then. Good.”
“Definitely not. Sorry.” The British accent stirred him up a bit.
“Huh. I could’ve sworn it was you.”
“Wasn’t me.” She had a breathy soprano that sounded oddly familiar. Yet he had never heard such a combination of sexy and innocent in a woman’s voice.
“You sat in the third row between your date and your friend. You were all pretty wrecked by the end. I don’t blame you. I was excellent, if I do say so myself.”
“I’m sure. But it wasn’t me.”
“The Invention of Love? I played A.E. Housman. I was Nicole Kidman’s understudy. Love is ice in the hands of children.”
“Sounds good, but I haven’t been to New York in years.”
“Incredible.”
It sure was. A squinting Julian studied the specials board again. He