"I'm sorry, Sophie, it's not you, it's me. You're too good for me, but I just can't handle this... situation. You deserve better."

Ritchie's jaw dropped. For over a month, the couple had regularly dined at the table next to his and he couldn't help overhearing their conversations, although to call them conversations was to imply that both parties had participated, and that certainly hadn't happened. No, Simon, the guy, had done all of the talking, and Ritchie now knew more than he cared to about Simon, thirty-two, an estate agent from Ealing.

"But you said you loved me, that ..."

Ritchie cringed at the sound of her voice as it broke.

"I'm sorry, please don't hate me."

Ritchie heard him move his chair, as Jess yelped.

"Hey, watch it! You just hurt my dog!" Ritchie called out.

"Oh great, another one! Chill out, man."

Not for the first time, Ritchie wished he was able to see the jerk so he could lamp him one right on the nose, but his anger soon dissipated as he heard Sophie quietly crying. He wanted to tell her she was worth a thousand of that poor excuse for a boyfriend, but he held back.

"That'll be seven pounds and forty-nine pence please," Emma, his favourite waitress at Café la belle, said behind him.

"I'm so sorry, but I haven't got any money." Sophie began to cry more loudly, her words coming out in sobs. "My boyfriend said he was paying today, but .... he just dumped me and walked off."

Ritchie shook his head. That guy really was a piece of work. "Emma," he interrupted, "could you please add the lady's bill onto mine."

"Yes, of course." Emma gave his shoulder a squeeze. "You're a real gent, Ritchie Jones." He heard Emma's heels clickety-clack back into the café.

A louder sob and a snotty nose-blow followed. "No, that's too kind of you, I can't let you do that."

"Honestly, I insist. By the sounds of it, you've had enough to deal with today, without this."

"Thank you."

A week later, Jess guided Ritchie back to the café and he sat down at his usual outdoor table. It was a hot day, and he welcomed the cool shade from the parasol above the table.

"Afternoon, Ritchie. Do you want to hear the specials or are you having the usual?"

"The usual please, and a glass of iced water, too."

"Coming right up. I'll get Jess some water, too. Her tongue looks parched."

"Thanks, Emma."

Ritchie loosened his tie and relaxed into his chair. He'd had a pretty rough day at work and it hadn't helped that the air conditioning had gone down — a consequence of the budget cuts at the library.

"Sorry to interrupt, but it's me, the silly crying woman from last week."

"Hey, how are you?"

"Well I'm not crying, so that's a start. Anyway, as you were so kind to me, could I please pay for your dinner today as a thank you?"

Her voice was soft, with a pretty west-country lilt. He liked it very much.

"That would be lovely, but only if you join me. As much as I love Jess, my dear canine companion is quite lacking in the conversation department."

Sophie laughed and the sound made him smile.

"I'd love to. Seems like my Bonnie has made friends with your Jess already anyway."

Ritchie heard a little yap given in response to her name, as the chair opposite him was pulled out.

"What breed is she?"

"She's a lab-cross. Quite the madam, too. Seems to think she's the boss."

"Oh, Jess is the same. I swear she takes me for a walk and not the other way around."

An hour or so later and after Sophie had settled the bill and they'd said their goodbyes, Ritchie sauntered home to his ground floor apartment. With a spring in his step, he hummed along to "Life on Mars," his upbeat mood aided by the two glasses of Italian beer drunk. It had been a very long time since he'd enjoyed himself that much, and Sophie had been a wonderfully funny dinner companion. Within minutes they'd discovered they had a shared obsession with David Bowie, audio books and anything that contained cheese. What had really made the afternoon was the fact that they'd arranged to meet again the following evening. Same time, same place.

"Don't get your hopes up," he told himself loudly, as Jess helped him locate the first of three small steps up to his apartment building. But he couldn't help himself and as he lay there that evening, going through their conversation, it dawned on him that his blindness was never once brought up. It was like it didn't exist. On the limited number of dates he'd been on in the last couple of years, he always felt like he had to prove his suitability for dating. Yes, he could visit the pub without being taken by someone. Yes, he did do his own washing and cleaning. No, he didn't need a full-time caregiver. The memories of dates-passed made him shudder, but the sound of her laugh came back to him and he drifted off into a happy sleep.

The next evening, as Ritchie was enjoying listening to Sophie talking about her love of cooking, he realised he'd fallen for her. She was simply perfect, but did she feel the same about him? Could she? Emboldened by a glass of red wine, Ritchie took a deep breath and a leap of faith.

"Sophie, I've had a really fantastic evening and I was wondering if you'd... er...like to come with me on a proper...er... date."

He could hear the reticence in her before she'd said a word.

"Ritchie, you're a great guy and I would love to, but... do you really want to date me, considering my situation, as Simon called it? Are you really sure you want to date a girl who is blind?"

997 words.