Barnes and Noble everyday.I've come here enough times these past months to intimately know the non-aggressive drone of chic remixes over the speakers. I even know faces of others like me. One is intriguing. Today is only the second time I've seen her. Black bangs, bare shoulders(always) and a her white macbook. It's her trademark on the sole object of her attention. I sometimes wish I were a side show for she is seems immune to my subtle flirtations.
Day 1:
The two comfy armchairs are, of course, occupied. Like animals marking territory, books of specific interest (pregnancy and You, TokyoPoP!) demarcate where I can sit and where I would be intrusive. So instead I sit in the Spartan wooden chairs on the center second level. That is when Bang's sits next to me. Her presence is that of an attractive woman. One whom I always imagine is watching me, in turn making me feel self conscience. I play to this imagining, trying to flash signals of macho bravura. I stretch to imply my muscles are sore from the intense workout I had just come from(They weren't). No doubt my slightly flabby 165 pound betrays this notion. She doesn't stir.
Not so purposefully my netbook opens. We're laptop buddies. We now have something in common. I glance left hoping to see through her macbook window of interest. It always look black, but imagine an NPR broadcast piping through her ipod headphones. A firefox page on hipster fashions and a little facebook to boot. Maybe, maybe not. She packs up and leaves.
Day 2:
Day 1:
The two comfy armchairs are, of course, occupied. Like animals marking territory, books of specific interest (pregnancy and You, TokyoPoP!) demarcate where I can sit and where I would be intrusive. So instead I sit in the Spartan wooden chairs on the center second level. That is when Bang's sits next to me. Her presence is that of an attractive woman. One whom I always imagine is watching me, in turn making me feel self conscience. I play to this imagining, trying to flash signals of macho bravura. I stretch to imply my muscles are sore from the intense workout I had just come from(They weren't). No doubt my slightly flabby 165 pound betrays this notion. She doesn't stir.
Not so purposefully my netbook opens. We're laptop buddies. We now have something in common. I glance left hoping to see through her macbook window of interest. It always look black, but imagine an NPR broadcast piping through her ipod headphones. A firefox page on hipster fashions and a little facebook to boot. Maybe, maybe not. She packs up and leaves.
Day 2:
