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I'm Vania Stephanie Hosen, currently twenty-three. I suck at self-introduction, and even worse on self-explaining. See? Now you get what I mean. And oh, I speak fluent sarcasm.

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Monday, January 26, 2015 | 12:41 AM | 2 comments (+)

First of all, this is a fiction.

All characters appearing in this work are fictitious. Any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.

Especially, you.
(and of course, 500 Days of Summer)


I dropped my bag heartlessly to the couch, only to be later followed up by a huge regret of doing so. My wallet, planner, and almost everything in my bag fell over and landed noisily to the floor.

Darn. I couldn't help but to diss. I bowed down, collected the dropped items and threw them all back to my bag recklessly.

"Okay..." I let out a sigh. "Enough with the show and let's do things right." I cheered myself up. My left hand reached out for my hot Vanilla Latte, as my right opened up my laptop.

It took less than a minute for my laptop to light up. I almost immediately double clicked the Outlook's icon and got myself a such a 'sweet' present of 30++ new emails.

It was already 7 in the evening and definitely has passed the office hours. I knew it too crystal clearly. But working for an agency is always a different matter. Deadlines are here and there; not to mention clients and their babbles. They could be very demanding at times, and often would ask for something really unreasonable. Nevertheless, I've survived the industry for almost two years, and its ups and downs had made me today.

Back to the dozens of emails which my inbox I haven't checked since three in the afternoon, I came to a summary that our proposal for company A has been approved to be published, and company B replied with a request of the final minor revision for the concept. I paid no further concern to the other emails, as I thought to just read them tomorrow.

I typed an instant forward to the publisher as an approval for our pages to be printed out tomorrow for company A. And that was it. I shut down my laptop and let out a joyous smile.

Not bad for today.
I smirked to myself. At least somebody could have a rest earlier tonight.

Only then, I could look around and see through the crowd.

"Why is this coffee shop so busy today?" I asked rhetorically.

As I enjoyed my not-so-hot-anymore caffeine for the day, I quick scanned the people. On my eyesight, all of the people were basically happily chatted with their family and friends, but the guy at three o'clock to my right.

He leisurely sat alone on the single couch, with all of his attention poured to his book. He wore glasses and white shirt, which both long sleeves rolled to his elbows. From a five meters distance, I had to admit: he sure looked fine.

And oh, let's not mention the book he read. It was 5 cm thick, successfully made me full of amusement. Well, that better be some kind of literature, thriller, action fictions, or else. I could still tolerate motivation and self-help books, as long as it wasn't romance. Guys who read romance novels are totally cringe-worthy.

The guy suddenly bookmarked his book with a yellow post-it before closing it. He later grabbed his drink and looked up straight to my direction, as if noticing I've been looking at him for minutes.

I spontaneously looked away. I believed our eyes matched for a split second.

Seconds after I regretted for looking away. He must have really noticed me, and now I would've looked so peculiar. Congratulations, my lady. You just posted a wide 'dumb' sticker on your forehead.

But with confidence out of nowhere, I shifted back to his direction. To my surprise, I found he was still eyeing on me. I didn't dodge his stare this time, learning from my past mistake.

Intense was the proper adjective to describe our gaze. I didn't notice how long it lasted; or to be exact, we lasted. I remembered of examining the details of his features; sharp nose, clean-cut appearance, well-shaved jawline, and small yet charming eyes behind those thick glasses.

It was until my mobile loudly rang and my Damien Rice ringtone disturbed us in a flash. I caught him releasing a smile before I got busy searching my phone in my unorganized bag.

Once found, I later winced at the displayed caller.
'The representative of Company A'

I steal a glance to my watch. "Great. Job stuffs at 8.30!" I congratulated myself.

"Yes Mam, how could I help you?" I answered unwillingly.

The phone call turned out disastrous. The client requested for a layout revision for the content she has okayed in the email; the very email I had forwarded to the publisher. And this would mean another night shift as I was required to do the revision too. Hurray for the unpaid overtime!

Within ten minutes, I completed my laptop's set up for my self-congratulatory overtime and finished calling the publisher to delay printing until further approval. In between, I made a quick shift to check the three o'clock guy. Well, he seemed to pack his stuffs up, about to go home; maybe.

Before leaving, he made a tour to the counter, ordered something I couldn't hear from my distance. He seemed friendly to the cashier as they had a little chit chat before paying out the bills.

As I watched him walking to the exit door, he made it so obvious, looking at my direction and blatantly smiling at me.

This time I was completely dumbfounded. My jaw literally dropped as he left. What the heck was that. This guy must have owned high self-confidence with definite proofs of narcissism and cockiness.

Soon after, the cashier who previously had a chat with him ushered me a dish.

"I didn't order for this, I believe." I looked at her, perplexed.

"Yeap, you didn't. But the man who earlier sat there ordered it for you." She pointed to the direction, now empty seated, which I knew very well without seeing.

"Hope you enjoyed the cake!" She smiled as she walked away, and I was still unable to maintain my posture, looking utterly lost.

He bought me a cheesecake.
Out of nowhere.

And what captured my utmost interest was the hastily written yellow post-it.

'Dear Feisty Lady,
I thought a lot about the cake, of what you probably would enjoy the most.
Did I make a correct lucky guess?
Do tell me.
- Oscar, +6281234567890
P.S. I hope you had a great evening. Just like I did.'


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