The Man In The Blue Suit

I feel like I'm sixteen years old and stuck in the Department of Motor Vehicles for four hours before failing my driving test. Indeed, this place is that kind of hell. Only I'm not sixteen, but nearing thirty and pressed up against the back wall of the unemployment office, soaked from the rain and extremely uncomfortable.
The place is crowded, thanks to our failing economy--each chair is filled people whose large, beady eyes reflect disappointment and worry. Their depression is like a disease, and after a while I feel my eyes grow heavy. I wonder if they see me as sad and lonely too.
The rain drops down like bullets outside of the huge glass windows. On any sunny weekday, as the corporate crowd takes their lunch and strolls down the street, they peek through these windows with nervous glances. You know the reason why they quickly look away with a flush is not because they believe it's rude to stare.
I slide down onto the floor amidst my wet jacket, my back against the wall as I wait for my number to be called. Head back, chin up, eyes closed. Breathe. Again.
"I am relaxed," I mutter mid-breath. This has become my mantra of late. Ever since my boss decided to lay me off, regardless of how many buttons on my blouse I had dropped at his command, thinking it secured my job. So wrong. Shit. I'm getting stressed again. Inhale. Exhale. "I am relaxed."
"You don't look very relaxed, if you ask me," a voice chuckles. My eyes fly open as I glare up at the stranger who interrupted my meditation.
"Well I am," I say curtly and lean my head back again. Lie.
"You must be really good at that meditation stuff then, because it's near impossible to relax in this place. That woman with the screaming baby--God, the kid's giving me a headache." I'm about to say something smart and go back to my breathing, but I give up because I know the guy will interrupt again and it was kind of a wasted effort anyway. The guy sits down next to me. I notice he's about my age and much drier than I am; his navy suit and loosened tie seem freshly dry cleaned. He's a good looking guy, but something is wrong about him. No, not wrong--just different from everyone else in the room. There's some odd vivacity in his demeanor that is ironic for someone filing for unemployment. The punchline of some untold joke plays behind his lips.
"I thought I was the only one bothered by that," I answer after a prolonged pause.
"Nope, I can tell everyone else here is too, but they're biting their tongue. Madea over there is debating on whether she should say something," he winks at the masculine-looking black woman with glasses sitting behind the counter. Sure enough, behind the glaze over her eyeballs, there's some kind of muted irritation. I chuckle at her expression and turn back to the stranger. He's sitting closer to me than I had realized, and my heart picks up speed. I bite my lip before I continue.
"I bet you're right."
"Now that lady over there," he says and points to a nervous looking woman wearing large, gaudy earrings in the shape of an umbrella and a drop of rain. "Ex-elementary school teacher. Emotional wreck. Enochlophobic."
"How do you know?"
"Look at the way her eyes dart around. See her hands--the palms are sweaty. And her outfit, well, that speaks for itself," he says with a low chuckle that takes me by surprise.
"You read people very well," I remark. He laughs again.
"Yeah, I guess I do. People can pretend to be anything they want. A lot of people pretend to be happy, confident, or successful. More than you'd expect. I just see them for who they really are." He gives me this look as if he's studying me. I feel naked, vulnerable in the presence of someone who can see through any front. His face suddenly breaks into a huge smile that lit up the entire room. He stands up and shakes out his slacks.
"See ya," he says without warning, and strides away. I stare after him, dumbstruck, and head over heels in love with this stranger.

--

So I started this last night and finished it a few minutes ago. I know it's kind of a weird setting for a romance, but I figured it was very relevant and had potential to be cute. I have no idea if I succeeded. The dialogue was kind of tough to write, I didn't want it to be too long and I wanted to capture the instant chemistry between the stranger and our protagonist, because if there's no chemistry there's no story. The whole idea of instant love has been something I thought about since I listened to James Blunt's song, "You're Beautiful." The song is crap, but the lyrics always intrigued me.

My life is brilliant.
My love is pure.
I saw an angel.
Of that I'm sure.
She smiled at me on the subway.
She was with another man.
But I won't lose no sleep on that,
'Cause I've got a plan.

Basically, James Blunt is high and on a subway, sees this chick and falls in love. I think it's just the pot. I'm pretty sure it's not possible to fall in love with someone at one glance. But that's what this short story revolves around--instantly falling in love with a person after a short conversation. As much as I think it's impossible, it's still sweet.