I liked to observe, glance every few seconds- perhaps even stalk. I wanted to know every part of her. When she walked past me I could feel my feet curl up in my DMs and my pulse increased. Her blonde hair was gelled, spiked up and her piercings were subtle she was slightly punk yet I could tell was the sort that would tell you she didn't like pain in sex. She sat on a large armchair in the cafe. Unaware to my eyes watching her every move. She first placed the newspaper down and sipped a glass of orang juice. An intellectual perhaps. She took her Walkman out and placed her headphones on. The bit I was anticipating, her music choice. Unknown however, as she put a mixtape in and clicked the play button. Her head lent back in the armchair and slowly, she sank down. I wanted to know what she was listening to. Perhaps Sex Pistols or the Buzzcocks or maybe she liked Oasis. I hoped she didn't. There was just something compelling about her .

I left the cafe. Replaying her in my mind. Fuck. I can't think like this.