A Ruined Man

It wasn't how he had seen it, but apparently, this was how it was to be. A stranger had come in from the cold, and his world followed her. She was a complete mystery to him, but he knew she was the one. There was a special thing she did, that smile just a touch off kilter, that turned him inside out. That's when his plan went out with the bath water, and he was just a baby, to be played however she saw fit.
 
He sat there, smitten, alone and vulnerable. She saw him, and there, that smile, but then she turned away, back to her business at hand. That was it, over, and odds were that she would never look at him again, but that smile would always be with him. He watched her out of the corner of his eye so as not to be thought to be staring. She picked up her cranberry scone and plain coffee with milk and suger, left the line, and headed for the door. He watched her leave, a part of him going with her. This was not how he had planned to fall in love. He thought it would be someone he knew for a while, came to know, came to love, or maybe like a story, someone who annoyed him, but then love would come awkwardly. But this was true love, it comes and goes as it sees fit.
 
A few moments passed before he realized how deeply he was lost in the thought of her, that nothing else was on his mind. Suddenly up, headed towards the door, realizing he had left everything behind on the table. Back to the table, slam the computer shut, grab his books, leave the coffee, throw everything else in the bag and off, yanked back by the strap caught on the chair (why does that always happen!?), pull it free, head for the door. The cold air struck him, crisp and tart. He was awakened, alert, desperately seeking. He looked both ways, up, down the street, but she was nowhere to be seen. He stood there, bag hanging from its leash, a lost puppied schoolboy. She was gone. He started up the street, and thought, maybe she went the other way. He didn't know which way to go. Back in the store, no, they didn't know her. Gone.
 
He found himself unconsciously back in his chair, sat there a ruined man. Every other woman he would meet for the rest of his life would be compared to her. He was doomed to be forever unhappy. He just sat there, bag on the floor hanging from his forlorn wrist, all askew on the chair. A sad, broken man.
 
Women, he thought, have no idea.
 

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