To the guy who smiled at me at the grocery store tonight and last night too, I swear I’m not a stalker.
But when I asked you where the eggnog was, what I meant to say was: I think God gave you eyes the color of my favorite trees—evergreens.
Either that or you’re wearing contacts.
And when you asked if I wanted paper or plastic and I said both, what I meant to say was I only bought some groceries so I could say hi.
My name’s Rebecca.
I twist my left foot to 4:00 p.m. when I’m nervous and to 5:30 when I’m in love.
I’m not sure what it means now that it’s facing 5:45.
I’ve heard love forgets words when it’s nervous, so please excuse my silence.
They say time heals all wounds and love can make you forget them.
I’m not sure what happened, but my mind is no longer in the past.
God must have had a plan.
Either that or today’s my lucky day.
Either way, you’re beautiful.
Do you have a name?
You look like a Jack. Maybe Matthew.
There’s a gentleness to those faint lines under your eyes.
You either squint often or can’t stop smiling.
I think it’s the latter.
I wonder what is behind that mask.
I think I see a dimple.
I’d love to know.
No bother though if you’d like to keep your mask on.
I’d prefer if you do that right now.
I’m not sure what your plans are this week, but if you’d like some eggnog, I’ll have some in my fridge.
If not, thank you for showing me those eyes.
It felt good to finally go home.
Sincerely yours, Rebecca from the Pacific Northwest