Purple Pencil

I had all but forgotten the purple pencil and the woman that went with it. The way it had fallen to the floor. The way the woman, who was wearing a red tank top leaned over and picked up the pencil. The way the woman had written down a long page of words. The way those words described me. I still remembered them exactly: woman: red hair, green eyes, slim body, red dress with white polka dots.
Now, here she was again. Same cafe, same order (hot chocolate and a bar of milk chocolate). I walked up to her.
“Hi.” I said standing next to the empty chair directly across from her.
“Mmmmm. Quiet.” The woman said as she wrote quickly with the purple pencil. “Just a moment.” She wrote. I waited. My view of time became distorted as there was only her and me in my minds eye. Her writing, me waiting. It may have been an hour. Or, just a few seconds. She looked up and smiled. I smiled. My heart beat fast and hard. My hand resting on the back of the chair that sat across from her.


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