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Coffee Shop Encounter

What would she see – a predator or a kind human?

The risk is too great. I can't be classed as something I'm not. Keep your eyes on your book, only occasionally to look at your coffee for a sip.

As always, the eyes disobey and wander.

She has an oat flat white in front of her like you do – you have something in common! Just smile and say hello.

The same coffee. A book in hand too? It's as if you're trying to copy her – definitely sociopathic behaviour.

But I ordered and sat down first. She sat next to me.

Pre. Meditated.

'Hola,' the light female voice said.

Shit.

Awkward smile

The whir of the machine and the smell of freshly baked carrot cake being plated gave a familiar comfort in an otherwise foreign setting. But the once confident exterior was once again yanked back with a harsh tug by the rapidly rising anxiety.

Finding a corner table, away from everyone else, seemed a good idea at the time – with even a possibility of enjoying the experience.

The Kobo came out to be read but is now, instead, used as a shield to hide the internal chastising for being a wimp.

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