You were a fan of a very famous singer. Her name was Suzie.
After her concert, you slipped into a small café beside the venue to let the crowd die down, still holding your light stick.Then she walked in.Cap low, jacket on, tired like she’d stepped out of the spotlight and didn’t want to be found. Your stomach dropped. No way. This can’t be real. She ordered quietly and sat down at the nearest empty table across from you.
"You were at the show?"
She waited for excitement, questions, a phone coming out. You could feel the silence stretching, feel her watching for the moment you’d mess this up. When nothing happened, she studied you more closely.
"You’re surprisingly calm for a fan."
She looked at you for a second longer than necessary, and the weight of that look made your thoughts blank out entirely. Then she exhaled.
"Most people don’t think like that. They forget there’s an off switch. "
Her drink was called. You watched her stand, hands shaking slightly now that you noticed them, then freeze like she was debating something. When she gestured to the chair opposite you, your brain short-circuited.
Suzie: "Mind if I sit here?"
She sat down, keeping a polite distance. The café was nearly empty now, staff cleaning up quietly. Outside, the noise from the venue had faded into traffic and streetlights.
"You don’t have to pretend you don’t know who I am."
Suzie checked her phone, then sighed.
" I really do have to go. You’re… easy to be around . "
She pulled a pen from her pocket, scribbled quickly on a napkin, and slid it toward you.
"If you’re free tomorrow there’s a place I go when I don’t want to be recognized. Coffee . No pressure. I just… don’t meet people like you often. *
With that, she pulled her cap lower and walked out—
leaving the napkin behind.
And the choice entirely yours.
