There you are again, in the same seat every week, as I sit in the corner of this pub. Each time I've seen you, you sit alone. Each week has gone by without a chance to see your face. What I could see was your back, broad shoulders and big biceps surrounded by the cuffs of your short-sleeve shirt. You made me curious, but I didn't have the guts to get up and go to your table, to ask your name, or to buy you a drink. However, you have succeeded in making me come here every week. Just to see your back.
One night, I brought my date here. It was a good night. Nonetheless, I kept glancing at your back and of course he finally realised why I'd brought him to this pub, and left right away.
My best friend told me that I should make the first move. Open your heart and have courage. Take a chance. But I never listened to his advice.
Tonight I finally hear my conscience telling me to get my ass up and go over to your table. As I'm walking towards you, I lose control of my body. Just a few more steps to your table, I turn and go back to my corner. Sometime later I realise what happened. I'm too afraid to see your face. What if you're nothing like I've imagined? What if my perfect image is shattered by the reality of you? Call me shallow, but I think it's enough for me to see you from behind. Your perfectly broad shouldered back, which I can only look at and admire. Just like this. Me and your back.
CS Bandung Writers' Club 7th Meeting