The Guy At The Corner Table


Something about him immediately caught my attention. Let me be clear here. He wasn’t the type I usually go for. He was clean cut, probably holds some sort of advanced degree, and is a little on the short side for a guy. But still.

I watched as he ordered his coffee and took a table in the corner. He unfolded the morning paper and started reading. If I had to guess, I’d say the financial section. I didn’t even know people still read newspapers. It didn’t surprise me that that was his choice of reading material. He looks like a proper sort of man.

He is elegantly dressed and well-groomed. He’s the type of man who keeps the interior of his luxury car immaculate. No food or drinks allowed in there. And I bet he most certainly washes that car every weekend.

My mystery man probably has a classic name too, like Charles or Thomas. He looks as if he comes from money. And I mean old family money. He is definitely the product of good breeding. He probably grew up in a huge house with a housekeeper and a butler.

I’m completely wrapped up in my little game of “who is he?” when he put his coffee on the table and started to roll up his sleeves. My jaw dropped! There was a tattoo on his wonderfully muscular left forearm. I couldn’t tell what it was, and it didn’t matter. What can I say? I’m a sucker for a hot guy with tattoos.

So, maybe I’m wrong about my mystery man. Perhaps I should stop playing this guessing game and go find out for myself? Yeah, that’s the better plan…


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