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I felt like a creep. A total crappy creep.
For even after returning back home, all there was on my mind was that woman I saw in the park.
I had drawn her and surprisingly she didn't once notice someone staring at her, which I was utterly thankful for.
I knew I was being creepy, but I wanted to approach her as a gentleman if I do approach her.
And what's worse is the fact that I only caught a small glimpse of her face. I could only see her side profile from where I was. Yet, I was being weird.
The next day, despite feeling guilty, weirded out, I went to that park.
I sat under the tree I had sought shelter in yesterday.
And now that I had an idea for my book, I knew I could draft it out till she came here.
Though I knew it was a rare chance.
I was engrossed in writing and when I finally finished a little part, I momentarily glanced around.
And I wasn't disappointed.
She was here again, sitting under the same old leafless tree.
But today, her posture made her face visible to me. I could fully admire her from afar.
I took out the sketchbook, pushing back my notebook where I was writing, in the bag.
I stared at her, and my opinion was a bit different from yesterday's.
She looked beautiful, but not only beautiful, she was gorgeous.
Not a completely flawless face, but gorgeous.
I started drawing her again, and she didn't once look my way.
I was almost disheartened but still happy that she doesn't get to see this side of me.
If I ended up ever approaching her, I don't want her thinking of me as some stalker or creep.
I am not.
I am....
I am an admirer.
That's right, I am an admirer.
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