When ... met ...

Every Tuesday morning when she went to her favorite breakfast place, he was there. Sitting at the same table, reading paper. She ordered the omelete as usual, and sat across from him, as before. He looked up, smiled, a little blushed, and looked back down at his paper. She smiled back. The radio was playing the same sappy old love songs. She was people-watching, he occasionally looked up at her, and she knew it. It's been like this forever, but they never talked, nothing happened. He always wanted to just walk up to her table, sit down, and said, "Hi I'm..." but everytime, he said to himself "next tuesday." She thought about striking a conversation with him someday, but never be able to muster enough courage to do so. I wonder what would happen if they could just be a little bolder. Alas, life is too short to afford another tuesday. The opportunity you forgo so easily might be your last chance at happiness.