Untitled Fiction – Chapter 3

. . . previous

“Thing is, I don’t usually give out my number to…strangers.” “I hear that, but go over the last five minutes in your own mind. Has any of it been usual?” “Quite unusual really, you know how to get a lady’s attention. I tell you what. In three

hours, I’ll meet you at Cafe Noir for a glass of wine, that’s if you drink wine.” “If you don’t, I’m sure you’ll be able to choose a beverage that will satisfy your thirst. Assuming you will be thirsty.” “They also have a pretty nice menu and by the time I get

out of here, I’m going to be very hungry.” “You do eat don’t you?” Besides being very easy on the eyes, she’s got a sharp sense of humor and good posture. Damn. What the hell did I just do? After agreeing to meet her, he left the salon. A flash of nervousness crashed into his body, and made him find a seat on a park bench.


He sat there, thinking about all he has gone through trying to find a life mate. It was not long before he talked himself into her not even showing up at this Café Noir. He figured 3 hours is enough time for anybody to come to their senses. Is that all it took? Walking into a beauty shop and calling his woman out? His smile progressed from a sly grin to audible giggling. The bus came and went with him sitting there full on laughing and it only made him laugh louder when he thought about the bus folks wondering why this man sat laughing aloud on a bench. Maybe all it took was a gathering of the balls to go after what he wanted. As his laughing fit wound down, an attractive woman walked past. “Yesterday, I would have said nice things to you.”


Finally, her hair was done. Perfection. She felt normal. Nothing worse than a Black woman without her hair done. It’s like wearing shoes that need laces, they are on but the fit is wrong. She paid the receptionist, bid her so-longs to the remaining ladies, and kissed her stylist Anthony on the cheek. She chuckled to herself at the realization that she asked a stranger to meet her at one of her favorite places. Suppose they didn’t hit it off and then she bumped into him there afterwards, he could be a stalker in the making. Then again, he could be the man of her dreams. Glad no one knows what a romantic I am.

. . . next

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