Timed

It's a busy day at the café, and she's been looking at me for fifteen minutes now. I tried to lock eyes to show her I noticed, but she just smiled and kept staring. Do I know her? Does she know me? How long has she been doing this?

Nobody else seems to notice. She feels familiar, but I can't quite place it. I close my eyes but I can still feel her gaze, strong and foreboding, but not hostile. Deep breaths. Maybe she just thought I was pretty. I reopen my eyes and see her tapping away at her laptop.

She won't look at me anymore. I can't fight the urge to keep checking. Was I overreacting? Did she even look at me that much? Seconds turn to minutes and I find myself staring back at her, entirely still and unmoving, hoping our eyes lock again.

She blinks at her laptop, then peers back at me, her expression now serious. Her eyes call me over, and I get up and come without hesitation. She looks at me expectantly, as if I had come up to tell Her something. It takes too long to recall its purpose.

"Your one-time code is 217444, Miss", this one says.

Typing. Silence. "Wrong", She says, and this one falls to its knees.

This one is sorry sorry sorry dolly is sorry so sorry sorry so very sorry dolly is sorry so so sorry this one is so so so sorry sorry sorry