Semiautomagic

    A week's time passed, and I never seemed to be at the coffee shop at the same time you were. A pity, since I couldn't help but bite my lip nervously, each time I stopped in. My neck was sore yesterday with all the times I turned to peer over at the door with each light tinkling of the chimes to announce new patrons. I guess you were just a traveler, just passing through; perhaps even a magical hero of some unfinished story, flitting between worlds seeking the perfect muffin. I cannot help but chuckle as I think up all the absurd ideas that I chose to dress you in, all sorts of fantasies that are better off never confirmed nor denied.    

 I see you sitting down, drinking something steamy and reading a book in the coffee shop. No, not reading but rather dreaming. You look so thoroughly engrossed in the world inhabiting those pages that it seems a crime to disturb you. I quietly take a chair close to you, It is a shame that no one else around you sees the beautiful serenity that takes your face as you explore the lives of those paper-bound people. I cannot help but smile as I catch you silently mouthing some of the words that you read. Perhaps you are committing them to memory, or just enjoying the feel of them playfully dancing across your tongue. I figure that I had better ac