Camera, Lights, Action

He starts, stops, stutters.
His fingers tap-tap-tap
the book in his hands,
the one he kept to while away
time in a corner of the cafe
he frequents every day.
Gets up, sits down, fidgets.
He wonders if he was found out,
the espionage mission gone wrong
due to a slight cough he emits on
an off-kilter supposition that no one
will notice.
Looks up, looks down, frantically blinks.
He nearly panics at the thought
that all one needs to know about him
is laid out on his sleeves, on his torso
for all to read.
Deep breaths: inhale, exhale.
He starts a slow march forward
to a table for two, seated by one
whom he's seen come in day after day
like a stake-out for her prey.
Too many thoughts, one thought, none.
His expression, grave,
as he emits a voice he never thought was his own.
She looks up, he looks down, contact.
One question, "Yes?
I didn't hear quite correctly".
He clears his throat, apologizes
then says "What's your name?"
She starts, stops, stutters.
Her fingers tap-tap-tap
the book in her hands,
the one she kept to while away
time in a corner of this cafe
she's seen him frequent day after day...
~~~~~~~~~~~~
Key word of the day is "grave", hahaha.

Hope you've enjoyed this piece! Cheers!