An Arcane Scrapbook Collection

DWC /// Day 8 - Are you a romantic?

I sat on the bench outside the cafe for the third hour in a row, my eyes looking over the large newspaper I held in front of me in search of that specific face. Despite all the usual complications, by far the most tedious part of any assignment was the waiting.

It was eternal.

I didn't sign up to be a hitman only to wait. But it was part of the job. So I took it like the professional that I am.

People walked by, buzzing to and fro, going about their day. It was nearing evening, the light dimming down. A few more hours and it would be dark, and the chances of someone coming to get coffee that late were slim.

I glanced down at the watch on my wrist, grunting to myself in annoyance before taking a deep breath and looking up. My eyes caught sight of a young man, marching down the street in some of the messiest clothes I had ever seen, carrying a heavy bag with him.

Gotcha

I waited for a while after he entered the cafe before neatly folding my newspaper and walking in as well. I glanced around once, spotting him sitting in the corner, pulling out some papers from his bag and scattering them across the table.

I ordered my drink then approached him. "Excuse me, is this seat taken?"

The man looked up, a look of surprise showing on his face. "Um," he looked around, probably noticing the fact that there was plenty of room left and still I decided to sit with him. "Um... no- no go ahead" he smiled, clearing off that side of the table for me.

I sat down, setting my cup down on the surface. "You're a writer?"

"Oh um, yeah, yeah" he replied, smiling faintly as he refused to look up from his work.

I nodded slowly, taking off my jacket and hanging it on the outside of the chair. "What do you write?"

"Ohhh- um... poetry- I'm a poet- so..." he giggled awkwardly. It was quite endearing. He was quite endearing. It was a shame he wouldn't last.

I hummed in response, resting my arm on the table and my chin on my hand, watching him carefully.

"Are you a romantic?"

He looked up, our eyes meeting for a moment. A brief moment that left him exposed to me. Thankfully one moment was all I needed to know exactly what variation in my method I needed to use.

"What... what kind of question is that?"

I smiled, my signature smile no person could resist. "The kind I'd like answered..." 

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For today's prompt we had to generate 3 words and add them into the piece. Words: poet, assignment, and variation