She stares at those
seven little numbers
that she's written on
a dirty napkin. She
wonders, for a brief
moment, if she should
call him.
Meanwhile he, Humphrey, waits
and waits and waits for the pretty
coffee drinking girl to call him
not knowing that she won't,
he thinks of her fondly while
slurping peppermint tea.
He thinks that she is
the prettiest girl he's ever
seen with her sleek auburn hair
and the softest looking pink lips
that were drawn up into a snarl
every time she saw him order a
tea at that coffee shop.
He thinks that she seems perfect,
at least, from a far. Every time he's
gone to that little café he's seen her
writing in a battered journal, watching
him through slitted eyes, and sipping
coffee like a queen.
He thinks that he'd like to get to know
the pretty auburn haired coffee drinking
girl. He thinks he would ask her about her
favorite color, food, genre of music, etc.
Humphrey thinks he'd also ask her if she
really, really, really does like drinking
that liquid tar, coffee (And what her name is!).
But as he, Humphrey, sits slurping
up his peppermint tea he has yet to realize
that he is wasting his time;
she, the pretty coffee loving
freak who goes by the name of
Ally, won't call him.
She is scared, staring
at those seven little
numbers that she's written
on a dirty napkin. She
wonders, for a brief
moment, if she should
call him. But then deciding
that the tea boy couldn't
possibly be serious about her
calling, she crumples up the
dirty napkin and throws it away.