First Date

 

He sat on the bench, looking out over the ocean; where white foamy waves lapped at the golden sands, where seagulls and children screamed together. The sun blasted against his body but it was worth the view.

"She'll love this," he thought. He sank back into the wooden bench. His head leaned against the warm metal walls, the green paint peeling away. He was lost in his own thoughts as he stared at the beach. It was always hard meeting someone for the first time, and you never know the internet.

 

A woman turned around the corner of the shelter. He jolted and sat up straight, quickly adjusted his striped tie and flattened his shirt. He smoothed his black hair for the fifth time in fifteen minutes. His face felt warm but he swore it was just the sun.

Do I look good? He asked himself. Then he looked up at the woman. She had short brown hair, wearing a dull red dress and black heels. He felt his heart flutter, until he noticed that, in her hands, there was a clipboard. She stared at him as if she was lost. It's not her, he sighed.

"Can I help you?" He asked.

"Oh!" She realized she had stared, "just a few minutes of your time, some questions, if you don't mind."

"Sure," he said. It wouldn't take too long and he did have some time to spare.

 

"Do you have a job, if so as what?" She asked.
"A car salesman," he said. The man noticed that she looked interested in that. He guessed that she was going to talk about insurance or something, not that he cared.

"Alright," she paused, "what do you think of kids?"

"What?" He said, blinking.

"Do you like children?" She asked again. The woman shifted slightly and bit her lip, tilting her head.

"I guess," he replied. He too shifted as he tried to find a comfortable position on the hard bench.

"Good," she smiled, "and what about marriage?"

"I dunno," he said. Of course, he wouldn't mind settling down with the right woman. But he couldn't figure out why this mattered.

 

"Do you prefer going to the movies," she carried on, "or staying in?"

"Either," he said. His feet tapped the concrete and he started to fidget with his fingers. He couldn't figure out whether she was

"Dogs or cats?" She giggled, "I prefer cats!"
"Dogs," he answered. The woman frowned but continued anyway. By now she wasn't paying too much attention to him, busy scribbling on her paper. He moved his arm, it scraped against the rusty metal of the shelter wall. She had moved again, closer to him in the shelter. Now she cast a shadow over him, blocking out the warm rays. He tried to look past her.

What if she sees me with this freak? He thought, beginning to sweat. The walls around him began to feel as if they were closing in.

"Hello?" She waved her hand in his face. He snapped out of his thoughts.

"What now?" He asked, rolling his eyes. He put his arm on the metal arm of the bench. It had been scorched by the sun and began to burn his bare skin. The prickling sensation ran up his arm. His fingers tapped aggressively against the metal, but the ringing sound only made him tap faster.

"What's your favourite chocolate?" She asked, oblivious to the warning signs. He didn't answer. "Well?"

"Can you just fuck off already?" He snapped, he stood up and towered over her. Her eyes widened and she shivered. The woman clutched the clipboard to her chest.

"Alright," she said, "thank you for your time."

The man sank back down into the bench, he had a long wait ahead of him.