Random Memory

A girl sits in the coffee shop, reading something, a book, a newspaper...homework. She is drinking coffee and sitting by herself. She is a people watcher. She glances at the people who come in and stares at any intriguing character. At this time, there are only a few. Not many worth noting. Except for one. A bald-headed guy in a black trenchcoat. He's got handcuffs on his jacket. There's been times where he's been in front of her in line and she just stares at them. They're good for pondering. She wonders where his whip is because that would just complete the outfit. So would leather. She's not too fond of bald-headed guys though -- unless they're black. And dark black. Those are about the only guys in the world who can pull off the shaved head look. It looks prisonlike for white guys to have bald heads. Macho. And she doesn't like macho. But those handcuffs. She muses that they've been used on a few woman...worn like a badge of honor or conquest. That thought is amusing. She smiles at it, content that people can't read her mind. She loves pondering and the moments to ponder. She has no idea why she feels the urge to stare at him. Maybe it's the fact that he's wearing all black, has handcuffs on his coat, and has squinty eyes. He looks a little tough. She also has seen him with a hat. That's the part where she wonders just what kind of look he's trying to accomplish. Tough Guy. Ooooo. But at least it's tasteful, unlike the teenyboppers who like to wear next to nothing. Slut as a fashion statement always annoyed her. This guy just looked threatening. But the handcuffs always made her smile. She muses that they could be an open invitation for, uh, the spicier side of life. Of course, there's no other reason to wear them....