He was staring at me and I did not like it. “What?” I asked, obviously uneasy. He smiled and flashed his set of white teeth. I averted my eyes to the view outside the coffee shop, biting my upper lip to hide my surging grin. “Stop staring.”
“I can’t.” said he with the soothing and honey-dressed voice. “Why do you hide so much?”
Well, that caught me by surprise. “Why do you pry so much?”
“Look at me. Give me an eye contact or I’ll die.”
I click my teeth with my tongue. “I don’t last in eye contacts.”
“They’ll see me and I don’t like it. It’s different.”
“Fine, then. You fear attachment.”
“You’re afraid that your fear might happen, one day.”
“I said, stop!”
“And if it happens, you can’t afford to sell all your souls to that someone.”
I banged my cup on the table—my coffee sloshed around the wooden craft and a few splashes in our clothings. I did not care about the quizzical stares of the customers. “I have to go.” I snatched my messenger bag and walked to the exit, but halted when he said, “I’ll wait.”
This was why I hated connections.
WORD COUNT: 204
Thank you for reading this story. I hope you’ll read a lot from me. If you ever feel the need to give me some writing advice, do not hesitate to reach me through my “Contact” page. All the best love, my dear.