Anyway, I'd left the ice cream place and walked home in agony and terror, wanting to run back and get her phone number, or even just sit and talk to her for a while. It was too overwhelming, though. She was so beautiful I could barely speak. I was afraid I'd make myself look like a fool. So I walked all the way home and just laid on my bed, thinking about her. Apparently the opportunity was gone forever, though. Or so I'd thought.
Next Wednesday, she was back again. She told her friend she'd planned it all week, knowing I'd be there, hoping I wasn't exaggerating. I grinned to myself. Sure enough, there I was, sipping my milkshake and reading some stupid flyer somebody had left on the bench. Something about sin and hell and dying without Jesus. In walks the little red-headed angel again. N
