A Chance Encounter: Chapter 6

He was crossing this street more frequently now,
Always in a hurry. Anticipating Annie.
Ten after eight. She should be there by now.
He opened the door with his heart in his hand.

“I’m sorry, sir, she’s not here today.”
He was looking at a bookish old man
In a wrinkled cardigan sweater
Telling him his plans are lost.

“Why don’t you telephone her at home?”
Bookish man asks reasonably.
How do I tell him that I don’t even know her last name,
Much less her phone number?

“Could you call her for me and give her my number?”
He pleaded with the bookish, cardigan sweater man.
Looking truly perplexed: “you don’t even know her number?”
Explaining it would not be easy but he had to try.

“You see, I used to know her and I hadn’t seen her in years.”
“I saw her in here accidentally last Sunday and we had coffee”.
He thinks I’m nuts, I’m sure he does; it sounds so crazy, even to me.
Bookish man smiled: “you must be Seth.”

He raced home as fast as he could, crossing that street another time.
Bookish man had dialed the number, after making him turn his back,
Then handed him the phone to leave a message:
“Annie? It’s Seth. I really need to talk to you!” Gave his number and left.

The hours past unrelentingly, the phone sat there silently.
A ring, at last! Oh, Mrs. Thompson’s faucet is leaking.
Put her off until tomorrow, cannot leave now.
Checked the phone frequently, Dial tone? yes. Ring? not today.

Monday at work was excruciating, concentration was nil.
He raced home after work.
Ensnared by Mrs. Thompson, leaky faucet repaired.
And now to the answering machine, is there a blinking light?