She sat at her usual spot in the bookshop. Papers spread out in front of her as her unfocussed eyes stared off, not into the distance, but into her memory of the evening before. The crowded coffee shop, warm and damp with the influx of shoppers seeking refuge from the rain. The steamed windows and sounds of the spluttering coffee machine.
She thought back over the events of that unexpected meeting between them and laughed when she remembered his appearance when he arrived at the table hoping to share it with her and of his awkward attempts at making small talk. She knew she had not made it easy for him, she never made it easy for people to get to know her, but he seemed different. Like she could trust him if she let herself. She had toyed with him a while and somehow found some amusement in his discomfort. She got the impression that this was uncharted territory for him, that ordinarily he was self assured and at ease speaking with new people.
The ballpoint pen she had been twirling between her fingers slipped from her grasp and fell to the floor. She woke from her daydream and bent to pick it up. As she straightened in her chair, she said to herself 'enough of that, get on with it' and she turned her attention to the papers in front of her.
'Coffee, Evie?' The voice rang out from behind the cash desk. It was Millie, the manager of the bookshop.
'Yes, please' she replied over her shoulder.
As the mug was placed to the side of her, avoiding the papers, she added 'I don't know what's wrong with me today, I just can't concentrate, but these books won't do themselves'
'Maybe it has something to do with a certain drowned rat you met yesterday...' Suggested Millie.
'Oh, don't be silly' She dismissed the comment, but knew it was true. He was on her mind and it was distracting her.
'Oh, come on Evie, tall and dark.. and hot by the sounds of it – you never notice men, you certainly never tell me about it If you do. He made an impression on you, admit it'
'OK, maybe he did' she said grudgingly. Millie knew her too well. She was one of the only people that knew her at all.
'So call him, you have his number' Millie encouraged.
'No, I don't think so, he probably forgot all about me by the time he got home'
'Well, maybe he will call you...?'
'I don't give my number out, you know that'
'Well I know you don't normally, but you were talking for ages. I can't believe you didn't give him your number!' Millie said in frustration.
'Anyway, what do you care? What's it to you if I never see him again?'
'I'm the one that's got to put up with you, aren't I'
'What's that supposed to mean?' Evie asked snappily
'It means, I have to watch you, all alone on the outskirts of everything never letting anyone get close to you'.
'I let you get close didn't I? - now I'm bloody stuck with you, like a parrot on my shoulder, ever reminding me of how alone I am!' she exclaimed, only half joking.
Out of the pocket of the coat she had hung on the back of her chair, she pulled a scrap of paper. On it was written 'Dan' and a series of numbers that made up a telephone number. She considered it for a moment and shoved it back in the pocket. She picked up her coffee, took a sip and winced, it had gone cold.
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