alcala0001
10-11-2010, 07:53 PM
She's everything they said she was. Thin, beautiful and with a silky sheen of long brown hair. Like the kind in shampoo commercials. Her picture does her no justice. She can't see me. Nobody can. I watch her from this balcony, enjoying her beauty. She walks behind some trees and I lose sight of her for a moment, then she reappears and sits down at an empty bench. I've been watching her for a few days. She always sits there at the same time. I get here early and I leave when she does. She sits with her back to me, not that I mind. The back of her is just as beautiful as the front. She texts on her cell phone for a bit on her bench, under the shade of an evergreen tree.
My phone vibrates and I answer it, keeping her in sight. It's work. They want to know if I have finished my latest job, the due date fast approaching. I tell them I'm working on it and they will have results before the contract is due. You would think they would have more faith in me than that. I'm the best employee they have. My employers keep tabs on me like I keep tabs on her. It's just business. She puts down her phone and reaches into her bag, pulling out a plastic-wrapped sandwich. It's hard to tell what kind it is. She takes small, deliberate bites as she picks up her phone and texts with one hand. It's a beautiful day. I could be doing any number of recreational actvities right now, but no. I'm here. That's OK though. I enjoy it. If I didn't enjoy it I would have already turned in that contract to my employer, netting a hefty bonus, not that I was short on cash. Far from it. I can afford to be leisurely right now. So I watch.
I wonder who she's texting. She might have a boyfriend, i'm not sure. I could easily find out. That info was a phone call away if I really wanted it. But I want to pretend she's single. She's texting her mother, telling her about the man she met at the grocery store. Mom asks what he's like and she describes him. She describes me. Mom gets excited and starts prying and she changes the subject. I like that. I would love to fall in love with a girl like her. With her. But it's not in the cards for me. Such is life. A shirtless young man wearing sunglasses pedals his mountain bike up to her bench and stops, leaning over to talk to her. He's in my way. I can't see her very well. I hate it when my view gets blocked. But I'm patient. After a few minutes he hops back on his bike and pedals away, leaving her in full view. My, she certainly is pretty. I hope he asked her for a phone number and she turned him down flat. Serves him right for getting in my way.
She's only going to be here for a few more minutes, ten at the most. I'm gonna miss her after she's gone. I always do. I think about her. I wonder what it would be like to be with her. Not in a sleazy, pornographic way, but romantically. Candles and champaigne, roses and violins. All that. What does her voice sound like? How does her hair and perfume smell? I'll never be close enough to her to find out. Women are always surprised when they hear I'm single. They always compliment me on what a catch I'd be for some lucky woman, but I can't. Maybe some day, but right now work would get in the way. Work. Time's Up. She's about to leave. I bid her farewell under my breath as I line up the shot and squeeze the trigger, putting my bullet just behind her ear. She slumps over before the sound of my rifle reaches her. She feels nothing - my gift to her. Time to pack up and call my employer to collect on that contract.
My phone vibrates and I answer it, keeping her in sight. It's work. They want to know if I have finished my latest job, the due date fast approaching. I tell them I'm working on it and they will have results before the contract is due. You would think they would have more faith in me than that. I'm the best employee they have. My employers keep tabs on me like I keep tabs on her. It's just business. She puts down her phone and reaches into her bag, pulling out a plastic-wrapped sandwich. It's hard to tell what kind it is. She takes small, deliberate bites as she picks up her phone and texts with one hand. It's a beautiful day. I could be doing any number of recreational actvities right now, but no. I'm here. That's OK though. I enjoy it. If I didn't enjoy it I would have already turned in that contract to my employer, netting a hefty bonus, not that I was short on cash. Far from it. I can afford to be leisurely right now. So I watch.
I wonder who she's texting. She might have a boyfriend, i'm not sure. I could easily find out. That info was a phone call away if I really wanted it. But I want to pretend she's single. She's texting her mother, telling her about the man she met at the grocery store. Mom asks what he's like and she describes him. She describes me. Mom gets excited and starts prying and she changes the subject. I like that. I would love to fall in love with a girl like her. With her. But it's not in the cards for me. Such is life. A shirtless young man wearing sunglasses pedals his mountain bike up to her bench and stops, leaning over to talk to her. He's in my way. I can't see her very well. I hate it when my view gets blocked. But I'm patient. After a few minutes he hops back on his bike and pedals away, leaving her in full view. My, she certainly is pretty. I hope he asked her for a phone number and she turned him down flat. Serves him right for getting in my way.
She's only going to be here for a few more minutes, ten at the most. I'm gonna miss her after she's gone. I always do. I think about her. I wonder what it would be like to be with her. Not in a sleazy, pornographic way, but romantically. Candles and champaigne, roses and violins. All that. What does her voice sound like? How does her hair and perfume smell? I'll never be close enough to her to find out. Women are always surprised when they hear I'm single. They always compliment me on what a catch I'd be for some lucky woman, but I can't. Maybe some day, but right now work would get in the way. Work. Time's Up. She's about to leave. I bid her farewell under my breath as I line up the shot and squeeze the trigger, putting my bullet just behind her ear. She slumps over before the sound of my rifle reaches her. She feels nothing - my gift to her. Time to pack up and call my employer to collect on that contract.