Flash Fiction: The Watcher

Daria Riksa Anugerah

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This is the 824th day.

She comes here twice a week, but never on Monday and Wednesday since she has a night shift at her work. She always drinks alone, always, although I know she has three friends; the gorgeous Asian one, the brunette with green eyes, and the blonde who works as a model. Still, she never takes them with her.

A good ol’ sazerac is her regular, manhattan when she’s feeling fancy, and beer when she’s sad or stressed. She has her own spot, the 9th stool near the right corner—perfect to enjoy the bar but still have privacy for herself.

However, tonight is different. She’s not alone. The stool next to her is occupied by the tall guy with bodhi tree tattoo on the back of his neck. I know this guy, he’s been watching her since a couple weeks ago. She seems to enjoy his company, she laughs and smiles widely—something I rarely see before. Oh, I see, she’s also interested in him. Her eyes can’t lie and it bothers me. Let’s see where this is going.

This is the 850th day.

They’re on a date, again. She’s taking him to this park for a picnic, brings him falafel wraps and other finger foods she made. She even brings her own manhattan. It’s autumn, her favorite season. The weather is chilly and she’s wearing her periwinkle coat. They take pictures together and giggle between kisses. The view stings, but seeing her eyes light up strangely gives me a sense of calmness. She is the most beautiful woman I’ve ever laid my eyes on.

This is the 1,066th day.

They’re fighting at this bar. I sit close enough to hear them cursing and arguing. She knows he slept with another woman. He says she’s being nonsense. Oops, wrong move, man. Wrong move. She looks at him in disgust and snaps, tells him that he’s trash—which I agree with her. He gets off the chair angrily and leaves, while she still sits on her chair. On the verge of crying, her eyes are full of anger and despair.

I feel bad. But I like it.

This is the 1,095th day.

She’s here, alone at her own spot as usual. No more the bodhi tree tattoo guy. Her hands cup the beer glass but she hasn’t drunk it yet. I feel this strange feeling inside me, should I approach her? What should I say? I know everything about her, I just don’t know how to show it. I’m nervous. Lord, what to do?

I finish my last sip of wine. Okay, here we go. I’m gonna sit next to her and shoot my chance. I’ll do it. I’ll do it.

“Hello,” I calmly greet her.

She glances at me, uninterested, “Hi.”

“Is this seat taken?”

“No, feel free to sit there.”

I sit next to her, I feel the euphoria inside me. I try to keep my cool, but, Lord, she smells even better than I imagined. She looks at me with her beautiful hazel eyes for a while, then asks, “Have we met before? You look familiar.”

I turn my head to her and smile. “No, I think I just saw you today.”

Finally, I grin to myself. After three years of stalking.

The image is Lady at Bar Modern Art, taken from www.simplyniceart.com (creator unknown

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