It Started At The Bus Stop
One day, while waiting under a certain bus shelter for the first time, I saw him. He sat across the street outside a cafe, wearing an apron, staring at me. I stared back, then one of us looked away. Then I looked back, and he looked back, and we stared at each other until one of us looked away again. And on it went. My bus came but I didn't realize it until it was about to leave. It was too late by the time I stood up so I went back to staring at him, until he had to return to work. Just like that, he was gone.
I could've left it at that; I could've let if forever remain in my memory as the most beautiful moment of my life thus far. But I didn't. Instead I began walking past the cafe and spending an inordinate amount of time at the bus stop. One time I had planned to go in the cafe, had even crossed the street at the traffic lights up the road, but at the last minute, seeing him sweeping at the cafe's doorway, I kept walking as if that was what I had planned. Another time I saw him as the bus I was in drove by the cafe. He was leaning forward with his elbows on the counter and his hands on his cheeks, obviously bored. Still I didn't go in.
The first time I went in the cafe, he was there but someone else served me. The second time, it was him. When he asked me what he could get for me, I said "ummm" in a hideously high-pitched voice before ordering something I didn't actually want. Even worse, my hands shook as I handed him my money. Not the first impression I was hoping to give. It's been months since that first encounter and I've been back many times. At one point I was going twice a week, yet I can probably count the words I have spoken to him on my fingers, besides the hi's and' I'll have a [name of drink/food]'s and thanks's.
I can't get over it. How could something that started so beautiful end up so anti-climatic?