Blurred

Hazy

She's been sitting in a quiet corner of her favorite coffee shop for the past fifty-six minutes, savoring the silence until the rush hour crowd barges in. She's a regular and the staff had greeted her by name and had led her to her usual spot.

Engrossed in what she's reading, her book of choice for the month of January, she had barely noticed another person come in. What prompted her to raise her head was the feeling of being watched - and then there he was. Confirming her suspicion, the guy from a few tables away was unabashedly looking - no, staring - at her.

Well, she thinks, at least he's some kind of cute: probably mid-20s, a mix of Filipino and something, with soulful eyes the color of midnight. A prominent nose sits right smack at the center of his face. His lips, which seems to be dry as he licks it wet very often, were thin. But the gods decided to make him look perfect they just had to include a slightly visible cleft chin and a dimple on his left cheek.

She looks at him pointedly, hoping that he gets the message to stop staring. She really isn't comfortable being gawked at.

"Kahit gwapo ka pa," she whispers. She stared right back at him with a look that, she hopes, would convey her irritation.

Thinking she already made her point and that he already stopped staring, she bowed her head down and turned her attention back to her book.

After being fully immersed in three breathtaking chapters, she places the book on top of the table to exercise her neck, allowing the muscles to contract following a prolonged state of rest. With her eyes closed, she proceeds to flex, extend, and mildly rotate her head.

She remembers the creepy guy from earlier so she opens her eyes to check. True enough, he was still sitting at the same spot, still looking at her.

She quickly gathers her things, deciding she has had enough of the creepy man who just could not take a hint even if it hits him directly on the face. She stands up and marches loudly toward the back of the coffee shop where the female restroom is located.

After a few minutes, she emerges and bee lines directly to the exit, noticing that the creepy man isn't on his spot anymore. She slows down, torn between staying or leaving. She had nothing else planned until later that day. Seeing that the coast is clear, she retraces her steps back to the counter. It appears she'll be staying for a couple more hours so might as well have another cup of coffee.

"Hi, Mark!," she greets the friendly face behind the cash register.

"O, Maine. Akala ko ba aalis ka na?"

"Aalis na dapat. But I changed my mind," she laughs heartily.

Mark laughs with her, shakes his head, and mutters, "Women," just loud enough for her to hear.

"Tse. Tumigil ka nga," she retorts, "One hot Ristretto Bianco."

"-tall."

"Tall."

They both smile. Mark knows her too well.

"Tapos isang Challah bread pu --- TANG INA, ANO BA NAMAN YAN?!," she shouts as cold liquid seeps through the back of her white shirt.

She whips her head fast enough to see the shocked looked of the person who just bathed her with ice cold coffee - the very same person who shamelessly gawked at her for the past hour or so. Blood immediately rushed to her head.

Seeing red, she is now unable to stop herself from blurting out, "HINDI KA BA MARUNONG TUMINGIN SA DINADAANAN MO?!? ANO BA, BULAG KA BA? HA?!"

"Yes," came the quiet reply, "I'm so sorry."

Thinking she didn't hear him right, she asks loudly, "ANO?"

"Oo," He nods, "Bulag ako."

*****