13
As I stared at the guy across from me, my pen dropped to the floor, while my mouth opened and closed like a guppy in a hurry. I must have stared for a full minute.
He raised both arms, resting them atop the table, a small smile on his lips.
I went to speak, but no sound emerged. My breaths blew past my lips too fast. The leadenness of my arms and hands prevented their gesturing. I didn’t know what to do, what to say. Forcing myself into motion, I picked up my pen and stood.
He, the stranger—Sean—watched me.
When I went to walk away, my foot tangled with the leg of his chair, almost stumbling my escape. I glanced at him when I reached the door and tugged it open, and again just before I turned away and made a run for my car.
I reached the car at a full-out sprint, almost colliding
