He sits down, pops open his laptop, and throws on his headphones. He starts typing in frantic bursts that look like his thumbs are about to fly off his hands. And then he stops and looks up with a glare so intensely cold it’s as if nitrogen snow forms in the air between him and the girl sitting across the coffee shop.
How about I do some typin’ and glarin’?
Angry Laptop Boy just as quickly goes back to his frantic typing, then another abrupt stop to throw his icy stare again. The girl sits quietly reading with her drink, completely oblivious to the look of death she’s receiving.
More angry, angry typing, and when he looks up to glare again, she’s gone. Still completely unaware that he was there, the girl got up, tossed her cup in the trash, and casually walked out into the sun.
So I guess that’s one relationship that isn’t going to work out.