Covert Ops

What kind of world is this where the Pistons are one game under .500? A world in which I do not want to live, Jack.

Anyway guess what. I was innocently walking to my campus when I happened to glance in the window of the coffee shop/convenience store. And what did mine eyes see? HIM. At first I kept on walking, but then the counseling faces of my readers appeared (or what I imagine they look like, anyway) and I stopped suddenly. It was like I hit an imaginary wall, which probably looked mighty comical.

I scurried into the coffee shop bathroom [to make up a game plan/brush my hair]. Emboldened with, well, I don't know, I emerged ready for flirtage, walked over to the store, and looked into the face of...someone else.

I looked around in what I hope was a discreet manner. Where the HELL did he go? I went outside, hoping to see him sauntering nearby, but no dice. And he's tall, so in theory he should've been relatively easy to spot. Alas, nothing. 'Twas not meant to be today. So after all of that, why tell ye dear readers? For a laugh? For pity? Not quite.

To let you know that I am trying, dammit.