Apart from doing interviews and writing articles, I also write fiction. This story is about a young woman, who enjoys observing people and making up stories about them. This time the object of her fascination is a man in his early forties, who she thinks might very well be a secret agent.

The man I was staring at had no clue about the weird thoughts I was having about him. As I mindlessly stirred my cup of tea, I imagined Mr. Meyer -as I’ve decided to name him- to be a secret agent. He was off to exotic places, to not only save his country, but also the love of his life. Eleonora. A sensual, intelligent red-head. Despite the man’s average looks and introverted aura, I pictured him to be an absolute Casanova in bed.
The man suddenly looked up from his book and took a sip of his coffee. He glanced around the café and I quickly pretended to be very interested in the menu. Oh, how the ability to read minds would be my worst enemy. I’d never be able to talk to anyone ever again.
I peeked in his direction and observed Mr. Meyer. His age was a bit difficult to estimate. Early forties, maybe? His clothing style was a bit old-fashioned. Like one of those stuffy, old teachers from my university. His brown hair and blue eyes contrasted quite nicely. He wasn’t handsome, but not ugly either. While I was contemplating his level of attractiveness, I became vaguely aware of someone staring at me.
A man, standing near the entrance, where the book store ended and the café began. Average height, dark, wavy shoulder-length hair with a few strands of grey. A dark, suave moustache. Mid-forties presumably. Immaculately dressed, like he stepped in from another century.
I had no idea how long the man had been eyeing me, as I was staring at my imaginary secret agent. For some reason I found it very hard to break eye contact. He gave me a sort of amused smile. I tried to smile back, but it felt very forced on my face, so I decided to follow up that failed attempt of normal interaction with a quick nod.
The man entered the café and to my horror I saw Mr. Meyer standing up to greet him with a warm smile. They hugged and patted each other on the back. What if he told him about me staring at him? But that would be weird right? He might tell him after leaving the café. Like: “there was this strange young woman staring at you the whole time, didn’t you notice?”.
The men were talking, but I couldn’t hear what they were saying. As they sat down, the sophisticated man looked at me again. I blushed and pretended to answer a text on my phone. Then I heard the sound of a chair being pushed back and footsteps coming in my direction. Please don’t talk to me, please don’t talk to me…
“Do you mind if I borrow the menu, Miss?”
I was so distracted by his beautiful English accent, that I didn’t really pay attention to the actual words that were spoken.
“Huh, what?” I rapidly blinked as I tried to figure out what he wanted.
“The menu… our table hasn’t got one. Can I borrow yours?”
“Oh, yes of course!” I quickly handed him the little map on my table. “Here!”
“Thank you, my dear,” he smiled and went back to my secret agent.
I thought that was it. This was enough exciting interaction with strange men for one day. Little did I know what would happen later on that afternoon.

Thank you for reading. To be continued. Let me know what you think.