We Met at Marty’s (well, not quite)

So I’m sitting on my own in the outside section of Marty’s, you know, that pub down by the pier where there’s that whole section of deck built right on top of the water and people sit at those big tables like the Germans at beer festivals. Anyway, I’ve had a couple, of course. And I’m just minding my own business, checking out the people as they move in and out of the place, all talking and laughing and drinking and all. The day is fucking fantastic too. The sun is out and a cool breeze, you know, the one that doesn’t blow too hard or too soft, well, that breeze is blowing so that the temperature is just right. That means the place is filling pretty quick. A few people I don’t know ask to sit at the table with me, seeing that I’m alone, and I’m cool with that. They don’t try talk to me and I’m just checking out the crowd. Then she walked out there and sat at the table right across from mine. Jesus Christ. She was the most exquisite creature I’d ever seen in my life. Seriously. I know I’ve said that before a thousand times, but this was the One. Man, I don’t even know how to begin to describe her. Maybe I shouldn’t. My ability to recreate her with words would be pathetic; would take away from her magnificent design.

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