Word Count: 375
He was a stranger, a man in a black SUV that just happened to stop adjacent to me at the stop light. He was just past his prime, or what he’d consider it to be, with a touch of grey in thick sandy brown hair. He looked pleasant, bordering on handsome, perhaps happily married. I let him take off ahead of me, hesitating on the gas to pull in behind him as the road narrowed to a single lane.
Then I followed him wherever he went.
We went through the drive-up at Starbuck’s, his coffee black with two sugars, mine no sugar, double cream. He had a bagel with cream cheese. I was in the mood for a glazed donut.
He works on the second floor of the Hart Corporation in the industrial park on Highland Parkway. I’m not sure what he does there. They manufacture corrugated boxes. I’m sure he’s in management. He just looks the neat, efficient type.
I followed the man in the black SUV for three weeks–no, not every day. Once I knew where he lived I watched his house a few days. I was right, he was married with a son who looks about ten. He takes the schoolbus to Midland School shortly after his dad leaves the house.
From the looks of his wife, it’s his second marriage. That and the age of his son. Some might call her pretty, but I’ve never been impressed with dirty blonde straight hair and pencil thin arms and legs. She spends too much time at the gym. It also seems like a waste of good money. It’s too expensive for me.
Their marriage seems happy, solid. He spends all his weekend time doing family things. I stopped following the man in the black SUV after a few months. I don’t want to break up a home. He would be perfect for me, and I think I’d be a good match for him. But he seems to accept that he’s happy and who am I to say different.
I would have suggested, if she asked me, to follow him to work some mornings to Starbuck’s. Have a glazed donut. Or at the the least, a bagel with cream cheese like him.
