"There is a girl sitting at the smallest table in the corner. She has on a black felt hat with a polka dot dress and cranberry tights tucked into black chunky combat boots. Her mac book is open to a document, and she is writing steadily, intently squinting against the early spring sunlight streaming through the café window. She hasn’t ordered anything yet, and according to policy, if she sits there for another five minutes, I’m going to have to ask her to order something or leave. I am horrified. Dare I disrupt her writing process just to make her order a latte or tea? All I can see is her long brown hair falling like a curtain cross her face, her small upturned nose peaking out. Oh my god, how long have I been starring at her. My watch tells me I have two minutes before I need to give her the boot, or a drink. I can’t stop myself. Before I even know what I’m doing, I’ve rung up a small Mocha Frappe with whipped cream and I’m pulling my own money out of my pocket and making this drink for this girl I’ve just seen and I don’t even know her name. I have to write something on the cup, and I’m standing here like an idiot holding the sharpie in my freckled hand, hovering over the cup. I shoot a glance over at her. The whole café is empty accept this artsy little writer, and god am I turning into a stalker? She’s still deeply engrossed in her writing and some strange force ripples through me. On the cup I write “You’re Lovely”. And I waltz out from behind the counter, in all my lanky, awkward, ginger glory. My legs are not my own, and I’m growing nearer to the black hat and the tackatacka sound of laptop keys. I’m standing next to her table and, unlike my legs, my mouth cannot conjure any words to say. It must have been at least a year and a half before she noticed me standing there and turned to me and smiled warmly. Oh my god, her smile-forget about talking, I may not be able to speak ever again. Shit, shit, she’s talking and I’m just starring at her smile and those beautiful brown eyes. “John? John, that’s your name right?” oh god, I have a nametag on. “Yes, ah well see, you have to order something if you’re here for more than fifteen minutes or I have to ask you to leave” she exclaims, chattering about how she lost track of time and starts to dig a wallet out of her purse. “Wait” I stuttered, wow, I’m a stud. “I uh I just made you a mocha frappe and I paid for it so uh… Here.” I awkwardly plopped the drink on the table, praying desperately that she wouldn’t read that stupid cup. She blushed. Oh my god she’s blushing. “Gosh, thank you so much. I just got so into working on this, well, it’s a collection of poetry and I got distracted.” She took a sip of the drink , covering the embarrassing message with her hand, thank goodness. “Oh wow this is good. This is… I could use this for a title for my collection. Coffee Flavoured Literature, y’know, because I’m writing it here and drinking this here and, wow you must be really bored I’m sorry I’m going on like this” I must’ve been starring at her blankly because man she was so cute and she was talking about poetry and I couldn’t even handle my luck that I was alone with her and- “I’m Kelsey and thank you for the coffee, that was.. really sweet.” “No problem, I’ll uh, just go over there then if you uh, need anything” she smiled again, my face was getting really warm, and I fled to the counter and busied myself by organizing the cups, aka, knocking them over and having to pick them up. I heard a little voice come from above me. “John?” I stood up abruptly, knocking over the straw bin. “Yes? Kelsey?” She looked at me with those warm eyes and that warm smile and now the sun was making her chesnut hair glow, “I think you’re lovely too.” She said and then turned on her heel and went back to her table, and began tackatacking away again. I sunk down to the floor, surrounded by cups and straws. I closed my eyes and did a silent fist pump of victory, and whispered “Hell yes!” From across the room Kelsey giggled and cried, “I heard that!”"