To the Girl in the Flowy Gray Shirt

I switch tables because I need an outlet for my computer; it’s like my creativity can only happen within a three-foot radius of a wall socket.

I sit down with a table to my left and a room of coffee beans to my right. I’m at my fancy coffee shop in the city; the one I go to when I want to feel professional and important; the one that B-List movie stars go to.

I am reading and happen to look to my left. That is my undoing.

I see her.

She is seated at a high table wearing a flowy gray shirt and a cardigan in her lap. She has one of those dual-iPad-keyboard things in front of her. I think that is very sophisticated; it means she likes the finer things in life.

I need to say something.

But what should I say? How should I say it?

I am unsure. But I am sure I need to do something.

I look back at flowy gray shirt girl and start amping myself up to ask her on a date.

I tell myself, “Drew, this is your one shot, man. You’re the coolest guy in the world and you will do awesome and she will say yes. She may be way out of your league but that doesn’t matter because you’re having a good hair day and you believe in yourself.”

Even in my head I try and make my voice sound sophisticated and suave.

I look to my left and watch as flowy gray shirt girl moves her gaze from her sophisticated iPad to her class binder. “You must be studying trees because my love for you has me stumped. Want to leaf?” Those words run through my head but not out of my mouth. I’m too nervous.

I have to say something. If I don’t I will explode. Anything. Tell her she smells nice. Or that I want to marry her. Or that I know how to rollerblade.


She is starting to pack up her things.

Oh no. She’s leaving.

I haven’t worked up the courage yet.

She’s walking away from the table.

Her hand hits the door and I jump up.

My heart beats.

I take a step.

She steps outside.

My heart beats again.

I burst through the door and squint in the sun.

Flowy gray shirt girl is walking away from me. Even her walk is sophisticated.

I swallow hard as my heart beats one more time.

“Here I go.”


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