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³ ŻŪŻ ŻŻ     Ž  ŽŽ   ŽŽ  ŻŻ     Ž  ŽŪŽ                               ³
³ ŻŪŻ       Üž  ßŪ   ßŪ        Üž  ŽŪŽ What Makes A Man Start Fires? ³
³ ŻŪŻ    ÜŻß    ŽŽ   ŽŽ     ÜŻß    ŽŪŽ                               ³
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   ßß                              ßß  Volume I, File XVI [062895]
                                       Writer: Rosewater

 
greatly inspired by Todd Lewis' "Tyler" 

Every day at 12:03 P.M., she walks out of the Overton Bank 
and Trust building, down Thockmorten, and enters the Coffee 
Haus for a croissant and espresso.  I sit across the street 
in the Miami Subs restaurant, reading the horoscope from 
the Fort Worth Star Telegram, drinking Folgers.  I always 
sit in the booth closest to the front window;  it gives me 
a better view of the street, and a chance to see her stride 
gracefully across the pavement.  There are others all 
around her, but when she smiles, she is alone, special, and 
my stomach turns with envy, my heart beats faster, the 
clocks on the wall stop, everything inside me says "Let's 
go,"... 
 
In the sanctity of my own apartment, my mind wanders, and 
it thinks of the perfect things to say, the eternally suave 
moves I will make in order to win her affection, how 
perfect our life together could be.  Our life together.  I 
like the way those words roll out of my mouth, the way my 
tongue tickles the roof of my mouth when I pronounce them 
together.  When we're finally together, things will be a 
lot better.  I'm pretty sure of that.  Maybe birds will 
sing like they do in the movies.  It sure won't be like the 
last time. 
 
The manager of the Miami Subs shop recognizes me now, since 
I've been into his store everyday for the past six months, 
without ever buying anything save for coffee and a 
newspaper.  I'm surprised he doesn't kick me out of the 
place when all I can say to him is "Have you ever been in 
love?".   
 
He's just a nice person, I guess. 
 
Thursday at 5:15 P.M., she walks out of the Overton Bank 
and Trust building, across Thockmorten and into the bank 
parking lot.  At the same time, I leave the Miami Subs 
shop, walk across Thockmorten towards Sundance Square.  The 
engine of her 1993 Mazda 323 starts, she buckles her seat 
belt, and leaves for home. I get inside my Geo Metro and 
follow her. 
 
Let's go. 
 
Driving down the road, my feelings swallow me;  I see her 
smile in the rearview mirror, in the speedometer, 
everywhere.  After all this time, tonight's the night.  She 
cannot ignore me any more.  
 
Let's go. 
 
In the backyard of her house is a window opening into the 
kitchen, and I let myself inside.  Now that I am finally 
here, it's hard to believe.  She's right down the hall, 
lying in that bed.  I can feel her warm hands, her soft 
lips.  Nervous, I trip a little in a hallway, in front of 
her door, and the noise catches her attention.  She calls 
out into the darkness, and her voice shakes.  Hearing her 
makes me tremble in ecstasy, and my desire for her is let 
loose over my entire body.  I look into her bedroom and see 
her curling up with her blankets, shaking, terrified, with 
the receiver in her hands.  I press my body against the 
door.  She screams. 
 
"I will be with her tonight."
 

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