“There she is, sitting, smiling, admiring me,” he starts his poem. It’s not a poem Vera has heard before, but she is sitting, smiling and admiring him. Her heart flutters, her breathes shorten.
His name is Mike. He is bordering thirty, or at least pretends to. He seems older than that. He looks like the type of guy that follows Andrew Kibe’s advice closely, noting just how exactly women should be treated.