A story is so perfect in your mind, every little detail sorted out, a warm fuzzy feeling in your chest. But once you pen it down, it becomes harsh cold reality, not nearly as endearing or pleasing to the ear.
"Oh my God! I'm so sorry! It really is my fault. I'm just so clumsy. I was talking on the phone and I just didn't realize you were coming from the side. So sorry for spilling that drink on you.."
"It.. it's ok, never mind. I'll just, err, go and change upstairs."
"Oh you're staying here? Me too! My name's Patrick Jane."
"Hi, I'm Miranda."
"Hi it's a pleasure to meet you. Though I do wish I wasn't introducing myself right after I had ruined that beautiful dress of yours. Let me pay for the dry cleaning. Here's my card. Just forward the bill to my address, I'll take care of it."
"Really, there's no need for that."
"Well, let me buy you a drink then. It's the least I can do. After you've changed of course."
"I guess a drink would be fine."
"Great. I'll be at the bar."
"Sure."
As she changed back in her hotel room upstairs and tried to wash the stain out of her dress, she wondered about this man she had just bumped into. He definitely seemed charming. A womanizer? Maybe not. But certainly one who knew his way around women. He had that magnetism, that something in his eye which attracted people to him and made him hard to ignore. She'd seen the kind before.
To be continued...
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