She is his dream. He walks past her house every day and every day he thinks of stopping. A block before her house he slows, the thickening fantasy of her nearness making his legs heavy. He strolls past her window, trying not to be too conspicuous in his attempt to see through the narrow gap
She is tall and athletic, with short blonde hair tipped with a silver tint. She is a figure skater. You can tell by the muscles that ripple through her beauti- ful legs as she walks. She has a sweet girlish face. Her eyes are bright; they dart around the room playful- ly. She wears a
My fantasy begins with me walking up to where you are sitting at one of the tables, nervously looking around and occasionally checking your watch. You’re wearing a black, almost billowy, button-down shirt, black belt with an understated and simple silver buckle, black trousers, black socks, and expensive black Italian leather shoes. You look so