To the girl in Barnes & Noble

11.05.09. Thursday night.

Outside there was an African man in a wheelchair and a fedora, singing "That's Life" with a distinct accent and unflappable cheer. I gave him my last dollar and listened to him finish the song. When he was done, I stepped off the promenade and into the bookstore.

I was reading upstairs when you walked by. Your hair was black and straight, your face was pretty and bright. You were so beautiful I was a bit startled when you walked into my line of vision. Our eyes held for a moment, you smiled, and then you walked away.

Soon you sat down, books in hand, in a chair near mine, directly in front of me. You smiled at me again. I had the sense to smile back at you this time. I breathed in deeply. I couldn't wait to get to know you.

Almost immediately a young man walked in between us and stopped, blocking my view of your beautiful face and your black, shimmering hair. He was a pretty boy, in good shape, dressed for work in slacks and a dress shirt. He had a backpack with him that looked like a gym bag. He started quarrelling with you; it became obvious that he was your boyfriend, maybe more. I disliked him immediately.

He stood between us, blocking me, guarding you, arguing with you. I hated him.

"Look, I just know that I could be getting a lot of work done right now!" he was saying. "You're the one who wanted to meet for coffee!"

What an idiot. What man in his right mind would want to go back to work at 7 pm? Only a complete asshole would rather be at the office than spending time with you. I wanted to put him in a headlock and beat some sense into him. I wanted to shove him aside, lift you up, and kiss you deeply. He clearly didn't deserve you. I wanted to replace him.

Your replies were too soft for me to hear, but his obnoxious voice, though I tried to ignore it, gave me the gist of the conflict. He was trying to get to work, or the gym, or whatever, but you just wanted to spend some quality time and relax.

"Good," I thought. "Maybe he'll get lost, as he clearly wants to, and then I can talk to you."

However, I was not so fortunate. You both stormed off to argue in another part of the bookstore, presumably out of consideration for me and the other readers. As you argued, he managed to herd you away from me. Soon I saw you slowly descending down the escalator, that accursed machine taking you away from me as your prick boyfriend guarded you from a step above, stealing the little joy you had given me away from my life.

You looked back at me as the escalator rolled you away. Our eyes held wistfully; you didn't look away. For a moment, there was nothing else. Then the machine dragged you beneath the floor, and you were gone.