Write a short story about an unnamed man and woman. It's love at first sight for him- 3rd person with a focus on the man.
system
Write a short story about an unnamed man and woman. It's love at first sight for him- 3rd person with a focus on the man.
user
Call it fate.

Call it 2:30 AM in a diner on Fifth, Lenny Kravitz is playing with a low hum over the radio behind the counter and he’s on his third cup of coffee in two hours. Maybe he’s just sleep-deprived.

Or maybe she’s the most captivating woman he’s seen in his life. 

Granted, she was the only other customer in the room, but even that couldn’t explain the way his eyes kept glimpsing up at her from the paperwork strewn in front of him. Nor could it explain his throat going dry when she finally caught his eyes over her stack of pancakes. 

Her lip quipped up with a smile, which he returned without exactly meeting her gaze. There was something in the way her eyes creased in the corners that made him feel like he was running, hurdling full force into the next chapter of his life. 

“Never see anyone else here this late,” she speaks up over the empty booths. He looks up and watches as she lifts a forkful of food to her mouth, chewing at him with a glint in her eyes.

He clears his throat. “Yeah. Deadlines.”

“Deadlines,” she repeats, smile revealing pearly white teeth that make his heart catch in his chest. “Pardon me for interrupting.”

“You’re not,” he reassures her, maybe a bit too fast. “It’s not a big deal,” he lies through his teeth. This report was the biggest one of the quarter, but the events conspiring seemed determinant of the rest of his life.

She laughs a bit and suddenly his collar feels too tight around his neck. But still, he finds himself smiling back at her now, his eyes meeting hers for the first time since he’s sat down. 

“Sit with me?” he hears himself say, and he’s almost shocked at his sudden confidence. She seemed to return his sentiment, her brows lifting in surprise. In spite of that, she reaches for her plate and her cutlery, walking over to his booth with a stride that made him exhale a breath he hadn’t known he was holding. 

Call it fate. Call it cracked red pleather and the taste of maple syrup still sticky on her lips when he kissed her goodnight (good morning?). Call him stupid for falling this fast.

Call it love at first sight. 
assistant
<|system|>
</s>
<|user|>
Write a short story about an unnamed man and woman. It's love at first sight for him- 3rd person with a focus on the man.</s>
<|assistant|>
Call it fate.

Call it 2:30 AM in a diner on Fifth, Lenny Kravitz is playing with a low hum over the radio behind the counter and he’s on his third cup of coffee in two hours. Maybe he’s just sleep-deprived.

Or maybe she’s the most captivating woman he’s seen in his life. 

Granted, she was the only other customer in the room, but even that couldn’t explain the way his eyes kept glimpsing up at her from the paperwork strewn in front of him. Nor could it explain his throat going dry when she finally caught his eyes over her stack of pancakes. 

Her lip quipped up with a smile, which he returned without exactly meeting her gaze. There was something in the way her eyes creased in the corners that made him feel like he was running, hurdling full force into the next chapter of his life. 

“Never see anyone else here this late,” she speaks up over the empty booths. He looks up and watches as she lifts a forkful of food to her mouth, chewing at him with a glint in her eyes.

He clears his throat. “Yeah. Deadlines.”

“Deadlines,” she repeats, smile revealing pearly white teeth that make his heart catch in his chest. “Pardon me for interrupting.”

“You’re not,” he reassures her, maybe a bit too fast. “It’s not a big deal,” he lies through his teeth. This report was the biggest one of the quarter, but the events conspiring seemed determinant of the rest of his life.

She laughs a bit and suddenly his collar feels too tight around his neck. But still, he finds himself smiling back at her now, his eyes meeting hers for the first time since he’s sat down. 

“Sit with me?” he hears himself say, and he’s almost shocked at his sudden confidence. She seemed to return his sentiment, her brows lifting in surprise. In spite of that, she reaches for her plate and her cutlery, walking over to his booth with a stride that made him exhale a breath he hadn’t known he was holding. 

Call it fate. Call it cracked red pleather and the taste of maple syrup still sticky on her lips when he kissed her goodnight (good morning?). Call him stupid for falling this fast.

Call it love at first sight. </s>
