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The Mystery Man - A (very) Short Story
The Mystery Man
She was nervous, no sense denying that. After all, she had not seen him in a year, and she was wondering if he would even remember her. What if he did not? Oh, but he must! How could he forget? The tears welled up at the thought, but she quickly dried her eyes. If he saw her cry, she would be humiliated.
She smoothed her dress nervously. What would she say to him after all this time? Should she be coy or direct? She felt a little sick to her stomach. Nerves, her mother would say. Her palms were sweaty, and her mouth was dry. Once, she thought she could hear his voice, but then it faded away.
The place was very noisy and crowded, and she tried to see him, but her vision was blocked. That she would eventually find him was not in doubt. She knew he was here. He had to be.
He had the unique ability to stand out in a crowd, and everybody seemed to love him as soon as they met him. He had that sort of magic, and she loved him for it, but he seemed not to notice his own charm. He was not a vain man, by any means.
In the past, he had showered her with gifts, but then he quickly disappeared. She wrote and thanked him of course, but he never answered. Other letters were also ignored, but he had a reputation of not responding.
Suddenly, she turned a corner and there he was. It was unmistakably him.
He was sitting all alone, just as always, and for a fleeting moment, she almost turned to run away in fright. But then he saw her, smiled, and held out his hand. He remembered! Her fears melted away. Her heart soared and she made her way through the crowd to his side. For a long moment, they gazed at one another and then his strong hands lifted her to his lap, and he spoke.
“So what do you want for Christmas this year, little girl?"