81

I've seen you at the café for some time now. My workmates and I walk past every Thursday on our way to the burger place for lunch.
   Sometimes you're on a computer, typing on and on about something. Sometimes you're reading a book, or the newspaper, and sometimes you're just sitting there with music plugged in your ears. The constants seems to be that you always have a cup of coffee, a half-eaten cupcake, and no company.
   At times I wonder what would happen if I walked up to you, told you my name. Perhaps you'd smile because someone finally wanted to liberate you from your loneliness. Maybe you have seen me walk past for months and kept hoping that I'd notice you. Perchance you'd think I was a creep. I mean, who pays attention to the behaviour of some stranger they've seen on the way to lunch? I must be a disgusting stalker who obsesses over people. Why would I ever have anything in common with anyone like you?
   It's probably for the best if I keep walking...