Write or Die

James thought he saw her out of the corner of his eye. He sat in the main room of the housing community center, trying to read. He thought he saw her going into the laundry room, adjacent and through a window. He focused his eyes ahead, at the connecting hallway, flirting with the idea that she'd walk through and he'd get a quick reaffirming glance and return his eyes to his instructional writing book before she would notice. If he saw her and she didn't see him see her, it would be in his favor, for he would know she was there without her knowing he was watching her. If she caught him staring at her it would be horrible, worse than anything because it would reveal his insecurity and the fact that he can't get over her, and has not gotten over her and that he wants the day they met to be replayed over and over. It was true, but only to him. And that's all that mattered, because it was his fantasy after all. If she saw his eye and it was lowered toward the book, reading words and not her face, it would demonstrate higher value for him and work toward his favor as that was the image he was trying to generate.

he thought about how stupid this social politic was, why little mind games must be played, but told himself, "they are what have worked before. when I danced and smiled with her at the party first I planted the seed of my image. But i had to leave that seed alone before it would grow, and I danced with another woman to show that I wasn't stuck on anyone in particular - and for her to know this was priceless. it's what worked. I made her jealous and she came back to show me what dance moves she could do. she fought for me and won."

But still, there was no dance party here. This was a housing community center and it was quiet. There was a party of three playing pool, chattering loudly on the far end, distracting him from his thoughts somewhat and from his book severely. But he adjusted and waited for her to pass through the hallway so he could reaffirm who it was. Through a foggy window toward the adjacent laundry room a figure moved and it wasn't her. If it was her, she would carry her laundry toward him, because her apartment was on the close side of the building, not on the far side. This figure walked toward the far side and also looked different. The one he thought was her didn't enter the laundry room at all and simply passed around, only the light in the window made her blonde hair twinkle. That one might have been her. The one that got away. He continued with his book briefly before he got irritated and wanted to write down what just happened. How good a scene the actions and thoughts he thought would make for a story.