Congress St.
Image Source: Maine Street Photography
She passes by every morning, dragging my heart with her. Always between 8:15 and 8:17, always crossing Congress a block down so that she disappears until she gets to my corner. And when she crosses I always move to the front window so I can see her disappear down the block. Always…always.
Shadows fall and she passes in and out of the sun. In and out, like the 90 seconds she’s in my life every morning, before she’s gone again. I’m the shadow above her, always watching and hoping, maybe this will be the day she looks up and notices and gives me the courage to come down and introduce myself. Maybe today. Maybe…
I want to sleep with her every night for the rest of my life, but I can’t stand the thought of saying hello. Maybe today she’ll look up and give me the courage. Maybe today…maybe…
But she won’t and I won’t.
Unless today is the day that I do. Unless…maybe…
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brian westbye 
Yyyyyou need to say hi to her
Guuulllllp
Better yet–give her a copy of this. Life is too short to not try for what your intuition is telling you to go after. Just my opinion 🙂
Hah! Well, this one is fiction, but agreed, totally. 😉
This put a smile on my face. I like it, Brian.
Awwwww
This is full of anticipation. The story reminds me of what Lee Child says about how to create suspense. I’m paraphrasing here: don’t ask how to bake a cake, instead ask how to make your family hungry. The answer: you make them wait four hours for dinner. http://opinionator.blogs.nytimes.com/2012/12/08/a-simple-way-to-create-suspense/
You make us want to shout, “Talk to her!”
What a lovely thing to read while stuck in a dreary office and dreaming of escaping into the writers life. Thank you so much! There is hope…
GREAT article, Elisabeth, thank you so much!