My coffee was still warm, and, waiting for a call from my mechanic, I decided to stay at the shop. Luca stopped by and refilled my mug. Still, the bl...nde was glancing at me occasionally, issuing the challenge.I called the mechanic’s shop and my car still wasn’t done, so I got up to use the restroom. My path took me past the blonde, and I couldn’t help but glance at her. She was wearing yoga pants, black ones with a grey stripe down the side. Even seated, I could see the roundness of her. Someone else made a different decision, and you’re stuck with the results. For all the good it did you, you might as well have not even tried to think about what you wanted. You tired yourself out, wore yourself down trying to decide what you wanted, and you would have been so much happier if you’d just let me decide what you wanted for you.’ ‘But–but–but–‘ Betsy stammered helplessly as her brain locked up. She’d told Anna to go! That meant she was supposed to leave, not stay here and keep. You stood and fumbled with your drink, fumbled with a cigarette. You never heard me approach until you felt my hand on your arm, heard my next instructions from behind. “You don’t need to turn around just yet. I’d like to make sure that you’ve followed my instructions.” I think you recognized my voice from our calls. It seemed to bring a measure of relief. Until you felt my hand on the back of your leg. Until you realized what making sure you’d followed my instructions meant. You froze at my. "Oh not anything like that. I was just wondering, I have never seen you before, but you seem familiar," you say. "I get that a lot; I'm an author." That is when the recognition floods your face. "Lucien?” "Yes," I reply with a smile. "You have heard of me." "Yeah, I have heard a few of your poems. You are amazing," you reply. "Thanks, a lot of people say that, but I just write down what feels right. But I am boring; I want to know about you?" I ask. We talk for over an hour. "I should.