Oh, no. He looks like he wants to come over here.
Let us see. Up-pick the book and pretend to be engrossed. Hold the bev permanently to the lips. Now, I am uninterruptible.
Wait. Why is he bobbing his head to this tune’s agogic points? Ewww. Is that? Gad, I hope not. It is! He is wearing one of those brummagem ascots I saw peddled with the off-knocked Rolexes at the corner.
My steamy drink is now a room-temp sludge still impressed to my face and I cannot turn these pages with one finger, but I must hold pose; the consequences of letting my guard down are too unbearable for thought.
I would be more open to a flirtatious exchange with a man clad in chlamys. I mean, in ‘Bill And Ted’s Excellent Adventure’, Socrates and Billy were about to pair up with those impressed mall gals—until Freud footed his mouth.
Oh, desperately delusional dude, think of me as a clocker and this comfy chair as my nest. Do not disturb, else I will peck away your confidence with my hard stare and fiery words of warning. I am hatching me time here and the only scrambling that is allowed is uninvited visitors away from this inhabitation of an independent introvert’s—and redhead’s—ire. ; )