A Stranger Told Me His Love Story on a Park Bench
“I just want someone to write this story down one day.”
Something made an Irishman stop and ask a young woman on a park bench, “Deep in interesting thoughts, are you?” (The white-bearded Sean was, as mentioned, Irish, and thus 100% benign.)
I’d probably looked like I was contemplating the meaning of life. I was fairly upset.
I let him have the utterly devastating thought that had been written on my face when he’d kindly interrupted me.
“I was wondering whether I shouldn’t just drink hot chocolates in the evenings, when I write fantasy stories, rather than buying one at a coffee shop and getting nothing done and wasting my life and my youth and my daily sugar quota.”
He didn’t call me a spoiled brat.
“Ah, that’s a serious consideration.” His eyes lit up. “And you write fantasy! Do you write love stories?”
“Um, not yet…”
He sat down next to me on the bench.
It was love at first sight, but not for her…
A string of devastatingly exiting coincidences had connected Sean and Mary long before they knew of each other’s existence.
