"Dots" by Santino Prinzi

Miles was watching Rosie from the corner of the meeting room, by the window. He heard her chattering, laughing as if he wasn’t there. Bright lights from above shone on her, illuminating her as if under a spotlight – centre stage. She held her coffee tight and Miles wondered what it would be like to be that coffee. He swore, just for a second, that she just glanced his way. Was she laughing at him? For him? No – she was laughing with the suave gentleman next to her.

            ‘Miles,’ whispered a fat man wearing glasses. Miles felt his body prickle. ‘You made a big enough fool of yourself the last time you tried talking to Rosie. She made it clear she doesn’t like you. You need to get a grip.’

            ‘I’ve got a grip. She does like me.’

‘And what makes you think you’re so special?’

‘Can’t you see the signals she’s giving me?’ Miles protested. ‘Anyway, she just looked at me.’

            ‘She just looked at me,’ the fat man mimicked. ‘Probably deciding if she needs to get a restraining order – plus she’s with that Greg now. You and her – it’s not gonna happen. Why would it happen?’

            Miles faced the window overlooking the city and traced the pathways made by the raindrops. In between the running droplets he followed the scores of people below with his eyes; little dots fuelled on caffeine and newspapers hidden beneath umbrellas. Being so high up made him feel odd when she was here. He was like a powerless God of some sort. It seemed as if every dot had another dot with them. They all seemed to coalesce, and he was standing up here alone. If his dot wasn’t sitting on the other side of the room from him as he always believed, he wondered where his dot was hiding. Maybe she was down there looking up at him? Perhaps she wasn’t in this vast city at all. Rosie’s laugh broke his trail of thought and his reflection caught his attention. Miles hated the fat, bespectacled man staring back at him.

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