The sky was smudged like newspaper ink. Clifton brooks left his cozy flat without an umbrella or a jacket. He was clad in a pair of gray wool trouser pants and a black ribbed sweater. His silver rimmed glasses were perched on the bridge of his nose. He thought that they made him appear to be smarter than he thought he was. As he walked down the street he nervously ran his hand through his slightly damp hair. He thrust his other hand in his pocket and walked hurriedly towards the cafΓ©. A string of bells announced his presence in the tiny coffee shop. He got in line.
Angela sat in the small corner booth gazing at the line of customers. She was sipping her white mocha seductively as she turned over a premonition in her head. She had been single, or as single as she knew how to be, for three months. She knew that it was not an eternity but it was beginning to feel like one to her. She had decided that today was the day that she would start looking for a guy. But not just any guy. Angela didn't have trouble getting dates her problem was more with the relationship part. It always seemed that guys wanted to flirt or "just date" her. She despised hearing those words. She decided that today was the day that she was going to set out to find herself a boyfriend.
As Angela was resolving her dilemma she heard the bells on the door offer her a prospect. She looked up to find a man dressed in gray pants and a black sweater. His chocolate brown hair hung into his eyes as he waited impatiently in line. Angela watched him for several minutes. He placed his order with the cashier, waited a few additional minutes, and then accepted his coffee-to-go. He turned and exited the cafΓ© without noticing Angela. This was something that she was not used to. She was a pretty girl. Her long blonde hair hung thick and full to the middle of her back. Her eyes sparkled when she gazed upon you and their colour changed depending upon her outfit. Her nose was small and petite, and Angela recalled the most memorable compliment that she had ever received was for her "cute little nose."
And then there was her mouth. Her lips were full and pouty and had the colouring of a fully rip Red Delicious apple. They begged to be nibbled. Sometimes Angela fulfilled their wish. Some people thought that it was a nervous habit but it wasn't. Angela knew what she was doing at all times. Every movement, every action, and every position of her head were perfectly calculated to elicit and exact response from anyone who happened to be watching. And they watched.
Especially men. She pretended not to notice but she could feel their stares. She gave them something that they wanted and in turn they supplied her with something that she needed. She welcomed their looks without a hint of appreciation.