She had a certain walk like a lilting voice. It spoke to Joseph as she walked across the coffee shop. The blond hair--was it natural or dyed? No glasses. That was weird. He thought he only liked women with glasses. Like if they hadn't strained their eyes against enough pages they weren't bookish enough for him, even though he knew that had nothing to do with it. She had a certain pixie quality to her, but a toughness. A pixie with death spells.
He tried not to stare, but progress in his book was impossible. He ordered more coffee. She read. She pulled out the tiniest of laptops and began typing. Her foot tapped the air rhythmically. She stopped and looked out the window. He looked back at his Kindle.
Finally, she closed her laptop and packed her things. She floated out of the door. He didn't go talk to her. Of course he didn't talk to her. What would he say? What would she think? People don't talk to strangers at coffee shops anymore, if they ever did. They talk to strangers on their phones, after swiping in the appropriate direction.
But he did decide to go to the same coffee shop the next day.