The Watcher

         There she is. She doesn't even know I'm out here. She thinks I've gone away, but I haven't. I can't. I love her. Why doesn't she see that? I tried so hard to make her happy. I used to send her flowers everyday - two dozen red roses, one dozen sent to her office and the other to her apartment. Doesn't she realize how much money that cost me? Roses aren't cheap! I wouldn't just do it for anyone. No, she's worth it.

         She's so special. I knew that the very first moment I laid eyes on her. We met at the gym. She was working out on the StairMaster, the sweat glistening on her pale skin and her chest heaving, faster and faster, in and out, as her workout progressed. I walked over to the machine next to hers and began a workout of my own. I glanced over at her a couple of times and programmed my StairMaster to match the settings on hers. We were completely in sync. After a few minutes, she looked over at me and gave me the most beautiful smile I had ever seen. It was the first time our eyes met. I almost had to turn away because our connection was so instantly intense.

         After that I started visiting the gym more frequently, sometimes twice a day, in hopes of seeing her. I often saw her there, but I never talked to her. She's just too beautiful. So instead I followed her home one night and that's how I found out where she lives. And it's also how I learned her name; it was on the mailbox - O'Connell.

         About a week after I found her apartment building, I waited outside one morning across the street and watched her leave for work. When the mailman came and delivered her mail, I waited until he had rounded the corner and removed a flyer from her mailbox. It happened to be a mailing from our gym. It was the first time I was able to say her name out loud, "Margaret. Margaret O'Connell."

         I should have known her name would be as beautiful as her face. It was classic, full of grace and serenity - a perfect name for my love. From that point on I always referred to her as Margaret, never Maggie or Mag - always Margaret.

         That was eight months ago and here I am, after all she's put me through, still admiring her beauty. You see, Margaret's friends and coworkers turned her heart against me. They told her I was "strange", that I was some kind of "freak." But they just didn't appreciate my devotion to her because it's something they've never experienced. Honestly, I believe they were jealous of our relationship.

         She started refusing my flowers and when I tried to call her and ask her about it an electronic voice told me that the number had been changed. I tried sending her letters, but she didn't read them. I'd watch from across the street as she tore the unopened envelopes into tiny pieces and tossed them in the trash. She must have learned to recognize my handwriting because I never included a return address.

         Now there's a restraining order against me. I watched her in court that day looking radiant in her navy blue business suit. It really brought out the color of her eyes. She refused to look at me, so I played along and caught only split-second glances of her. I didn't speak to her that day or any day after that. But she knows I still love her. She's just afraid because she's never felt such love before. I know she'll come around and when she does I'll still be here.

         For the time being I just have to keep my love for her a secret. As long as I do that I can continue to admire her even if it's only from the shadows. My greatest pleasure comes from just watching anyway.