[ WP ] You and a cute stranger make small talk while at a cafe . You then attempt to find him/her .

August seventh. The first thing I said to her. 
 
 `` I've been a regular here for over five years, I'm surprised I've never seen you before. You new?'' 
 
 I knew she was, of course. I'm an observant guy and this girl still had all the tell tale signs of workplace training wheels: she'd glance at the menu for price listings and she had n't nailed the server's technique of carrying plates, also her uniform was clean, *too* clean. Small details that gave her away. 
 
 She smiled and nodded quite eagerly. 
 
 `` Yep, only been two days so far. Is it that obvious?'' 
 
 `` No, no. I'm only mentioning it because I come here so often, that's all.'' 
 
 There was a persistent levity in her voice, like she was constantly mulling over and enjoying the punch line to a good joke. It made her smile so readily, too. I liked that; people do n't smile enough these days. 
 I pointed up towards the boards. 
 
 `` I'll take a number twelve - with black tea and toast, thanks.'' 
 
 She was quick to scribble my order down onto a pad. I waited and watched the end of her pen dance around in frantic movements. The girl then looked back up and gestured towards a nearby table. 
 
 `` Sure thing, that will be right out,'' she said. 
 
 The cafe was empty, which is probably why I did something quite uncharacteristic for me: I stayed at the counter, to chat. I do n't dislike people, I just grow tired of them every once in a while, so normally I'm content to read the paper in peace. But on that day, I chose to chat to the new girl. Perhaps this was because she was beautiful and in some small, repressed part of me, I harboured a hope that she'd like me too. God, I hope I'm not that sentimental. 
 
 `` So, what's that accent? I ca n't place it and I'm normally great at placing them.'' 
 
 I'd hopped onto the next topic hastily, just trying to keep her interested. She seemed more than happy to talk and her face lit up under the greasy morning light. 
 
 `` Yeah, sorry. It's a bit of mish-mash. I'm originally from England, but I've spent a bunch of time travelling around the world. Here and there.'' 
 
 `` Japan would n't happen to be on that list would it? Or Asia, anyway.'' 
 
 `` No, Japan's correct. How did you know?'' 
 
 `` Just a hunch. The way you hold the kettle, it's a little more... eh, reverent.'' 
 
 A lucky guess and late night documentary was the real answer - but I'd protect that secret for now. She seemed impressed and as ashamed as I am to admit it, I felt a flutter in my stomach. 
 Like anyone who encounters a magician during their off-time, she pressed me for more'tricks.' 
 
 `` You learned that from the way I make tea? That's amazing. I do n't suppose you could solve anything else?'' 
 
 `` Solve?'' 
 
 `` You *are* a detective, are n't you?'' 
 
 `` Is it that obvious?'' 
 
 We laughed and I fell further into her eyes. 
 
 `` Look,'' she said, seeming to suddenly arrive with an idea. `` How about you help me out with one of the puzzles in the paper?'' 
 
 She hurried off before I had a chance to respond; to retrieve the Guardian or whatever publication she read. I drummed an absent tune on the counter-top and glanced outside. On the pavement, the rain was drying, shepherded into small grimy puddles and the clouds above were parting like foam, dragged back by the blue tide. Looked like it might be an all right day, after all. 
 A flat slapping sound brought my attention back to the counter, where the girl had chucked a newspaper down, open to the crosswords and puzzles page. She wore a big, white grin. 
 
 `` There you go,'officer.' See how you fare with that. I've almost finished it, but I could n't get the last ones.'' 
 
 I felt a bit like a performing monkey, but I let it slide and promptly plucked a red ballpoint out from a pot beside the till. Scanning the black and white spread, I could see where she'd started and ultimately given up; her efforts had been scratched on in blue biro. 
 
 `` I'll just get your food. Be right back.'' 
 
 My first instincts. She was really bad at these. I smiled quietly, noting a couple of easy corrections, blaring up from the page. Cute, but incorrect. I started to etch over her writings, inputting the correct answers where I could figure them out. 
 
 `` You're really bad at this!'' 
 
 `` I know! I'm terrible!'' 
 
 I could picture her back in the kitchen, a laugh so near to her lips. 
 I continued to work down the page finishing off the crossword in seconds. 
 
'Communal gathering outside -'**PARK**' 
 
'Verb of vehicular movement -'**DRIVE**' 
 
'Month named after the first Roman Emperor -'**AUGUST**' 
 
 
 Then, I realized she'd gotten a few of the sudoku numbers wrong, so I amended them too. A 9 and a 5 in one box. A 7 in another. 
 
 `` They're done. You left the easy ones! How's it going back there?'' 
 
 I pursed my lips, waiting - and waiting. Soon, when she still had n't replied, I craned up upon my tiptoes, trying to peek round into the kitchen. 
 
 `` Hey, Miss? Are you okay?'' 
 
 Suddenly my mobile started to buzz in my pocket. I forgot about the situation in the cafe and quickly snatched for my phone. I'd been expecting a call. 
 
 `` Hayson speaking, got news for me?'' 
 
 The voice on the other end of the line was slow to reply, bogged down by reluctance. 
 
 `` Christian, you're not going to like this-'' 
 
 `` What?'' 
 
 `` There's been another one.'' 
 
 I held myself upright, but only barely. I felt sick and my free hand flew to my brow, wiping at stressed creases. 
 
 `` Are you fucking serious? But we had the Marston kid locked up!'' 
 
 `` Yeah, no shit. You know what that means-'' 
 
 `` That he did n't do it. I know. I know, I know, but fucking hell, Sawyer. Fucking shit. This is-'' 
 
 I exhaled heavily and sagged back onto an empty table. 
 
 `` Alright,'' I said. `` Tell me the address and I'll be there shortly.'' 
 
 `` Sure thing, Chris. It's ninety-five, Park Drive.'' 
 
 My lips opened, but whatever had been about to escape them was suddenly torn back down my throat. My eyes shot towards the newspaper that lay goading on the counter-top. Sawyer was speaking into my ear but I was n't listening. 
 
 I darted across and stared with disbelief at the spread. My handiwork was scarred over the page in bright red ink: **PARK DRIVE 95 AUGUST 7**. I'd encountered coincidences before, but this time I knew - I knew it was no random glitch of fate. 
 
 `` Miss!?'' 
 
 In seconds I was shouting, stretched over the counter and bellowing into the kitchen, but no one replied. The kettle, still on the hob, began to scream and screech, joining my voice in cluttering the cafe. Who the fuck was that waitress? This little parlour trick, she could n't seriously have pulled all of this off? Could she? 
 
 I dropped the phone, clutching my scalp with both hands. I felt hot, impossibly hot. In desperation I searched around the room, finally falling upon the one thing I should have noticed. As observant as I claimed to be, I looked to the door, only to see the letters'OPEN' staring back at me. 
 
 The cafe had been closed all along. 
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 I do n't know if this answers the prompt or not. It does n't include much searching for her, but I still found it enjoyable to write: )
