He wasn't sure what to make of it exactly. It seemed somehow bizarre, yet at the same time it made sense. Why would she have said that? Did she know him? Had they met? Those were his words she had spoken, words he had penned years ago, words that not just anyone could have read. Was it coincidence? Had she herself spent countless nights in conflict with her inner demons only to arrive at his same conclusion?

He had stopped in his tracks when she said it, as she was passing by on the street. He had seen her coming, noticed her because of her striking looks. They were looking each other in the eyes as they approached, neither of them so much as slowing their pace. When they were about two steps apart she said it, and just kept on walking. Having stood there for an unknown amount of time he finally decided to turn around, to see if he could spot her again before she disappeared forever into the urban jungle.

She too had stopped; about a half a block down she was leaning against a store front, grinning at him devilishly. She turned and walked into the store, a popular coffee shop that was famous amongst the locals. It was where the artsy, intellectual types went for poetry, music, and art. He had stepped in there a few times before, he felt akin to those people on an intellectual level, but with his jeans and t-shirt, his unkempt style, and his rotten teeth, none of them seemed to want to converse with him. He didn't mind, he found their fashionable style, and pretentious manner to be ridiculous. He decided to follow her in.

She was standing in front of the register, ordering some fancy, nonfat, seven dollar drink. He walked over and got in line behind her, he was checking out her shape. He found it to be quite intoxicating, despite her being maybe twenty or so pounds over what the fashionable people would consider her proper weight.

"I'll have the same." He spoke with confidence as he threw a twenty onto the counter.

"Thank you." She said, without turning around.

It was an awkward couple of minutes while they waited for the drinks, neither one of them knowing what to say. She never turned to face him, he never stopped taking in her form. When she got her drink she walked over to a table in the corner, he followed and sat across from her. He waited until she was looking at him to speak. She couldn't help to smile when she did, which made him smile. He saw her look at his eyes, and then she looked back down at her drink.

"Why did you say that to me?" He asked.

She giggled. "Because I thought it would probably get your attention."

"You had my attention already." He spoke, and then took a sip of his coffee. He wasn't expecting it to be so artificially sweetened, he made an odd face as he set it back down on the table. "You are just about as beautiful as they come."

"Just about?" Was the questioning reply.

He decided to tease just a little, to find out if she was conscious about her weight. "Well, you could stand to loose a few" he paused slightly, "articles of clothing."

She did not show any signs of insecurity and immediately spoke. "Wouldn't you go blind from the passion burning so deep within your infinite soul?" Again she was quoting his words.

He leaned back in his seat, he was gazing at her intently, trying to discern if he knew her from somewhere. After several moments he decided that he did not, and he was certain he would have remembered her. "You're going to have to let me in on your secret before I go mad!"

"Ah, but then the mystery would be gone."

Just then, the cashier interrupted. "Sir, excuse me, you forgot your change." She was holding the money out in her left hand.

"No I didn't. It's for you."

"Thank you." She was batting her eyes as she talked, then she departed,.

"She thinks you're cute." Said the mysterious woman.

"She hasn't seen my shoes.."

"It wouldn't matter, you look pretty rough, but you are definitely hot."

"How can you drink this stuff?" He was changing the subject, taking another sip of his coffee, again making a face to cover up his smile.

"Some of the locals think a complicated order is impressive."

"Why would you want to impress them?"

"We don't all have your natural swagger and intimidating stare."

"Only because you are too busy pretending to have something else."

"Oh, and what would that be?"

"I don't have a clue, I can see the disguises but I don't know what they represent."

"You can't really," she replied, "each has their own idea of what image they portray."

"So what's yours?"

"I don't have a clue, I can wear the disguises but I don't know what they represent."

"You going to make a habit of quoting me?"

"Why not, you're like Shakespeare times ten with words."

He was smiling again. "Had he known what I know I wouldn't need to bother with it. So, how is it you came across my dribble?"

"I saw your website. I was browsing last night and saw it, I read it all, over and over, even your profile. I recognized you from your picture," she laughed, " you're even wearing the same shirt. All I can say is, WOW, you have an amazing mind"

"Cool, so it does make sense to someone besides myself."

"Or maybe I'm just the same kind of crazy as you."

"Then I feel sorry for you."

"You should."

There was another pause, they both were smiling and sipping, probably thinking similar thoughts. Finally she decided to speak her mind.

"You see, now that the intrigue is gone, I have lost you."

"No, I'm just not sure how to convince you to keep talking."

"Don't stop replying to me."

"Ever?"

"Ever!"

"My dear, I swear that while I am in your company, you shall command the bulk of my attention."

"So, does your profile have your real name, or is that some sort of anagram or symbolical statement."

"No, that's really my name. So what is yours?"

"Janet."

He grimaced a little. "Now you've lost me." He stood up and headed for the door, stopped after a few steps and turned back. "Mind if I just call you Jan?" He was testing her again, she didn't seem to mind.

"We'll have to think of something better."

"We could pretend you're French and pronounce it Juh-nay."

"The locals would appreciate that."

"Yes, they would have a chance to show off their French."

"Yes, I could be a novelty, maybe they would invite me their parties." She was speaking in sarcastic tone.

"Of course they would, you'd be an exotic. As long as you parler Français."

"Oui, couramment."

"You are full of surprises." He was smiling again.

"So, there's still the intrigue?"

"I'm afraid it may never go away."

"Why, is that scary?"

"Not for me."

"For me?"

"Yes."

She didn't speak right away, he wasn't sure what she was thinking exactly. Her left hand had moved to her breast, she was checking how many buttons were loose.

"Are you a dangerous man?" She asked, after seeing that none of her buttons were loose.

"Yes."

"Why is that?"

"Because of what I am capable of."

"What are you capable of?"

"I am not sure I want to know."

"Sociopath?"

"Yes."

"Are you getting treatment?"

"Nobody knows, aside from you and I."

"So you are wearing a disguise!"

"No, I don't try to hide it. Nobody seems to notice."

"Maybe it isn't really there to notice. I have read your words, it seems obvious that you care."

"Yes, I care deeply, but even that is born out of my anger, just as all my actions are."

"So, anger is your only emotion?"

"It was anger that stopped me on the street. I had to know how you knew."

"Now that you know, what is keeping you here?"

"The thought that I may never have the chance to taste every aspect of such a remarkable woman."

"And if I were to give you that?"

"I would never want another to have it." He leaned in close to say this, in a whisper.

She was not sure how to react to this. He was happy to see that he had finally affected her in some way. She was sipping at her coffee, but he noticed her eyes were darting about. He decided not to let it get too far. He reached over and softly touched her arm, stopping her from her sipping.

"I wouldn't be worried beautiful, the only danger I pose is towards myself."

She suddenly came to a realization, the tumult of words she had poured over and over the night before came rushing back to her. She now understood what it was she had missed, her years of training in psychiatry had blinded her. His words, that had so eloquently been laid out in verse, had been methodically and carefully arranged. The brilliant metaphorical references and similes were actually the blunt and obvious truth that he had claimed to know. He had not used his command of words to create an illusionary pretence, but to beautifully describe his exact thoughts. "It is too bad," she thought to herself, "no one would ever realize." She knew now, why her words had stopped him in his shoes, she was sorry she had ever spoken them. He saw this in her eyes.

"You could never hurt me." She spoke, now with a smile.

"Never!"

"I just now realized that you are far more clever than even your amazing words let on."

"They are not my words, I only borrow them to express my thoughts."

"So you don't think in words?"

"No, I've tried it, it takes too long."

"So how does it work?"

"It's difficult to describe." He grabbed his too sweet coffee, leaned back in his chair, but he didn't drink it. "Its more like, I start out with an understanding, after having seen a certain action, or heard some words, or read them. In an instant, my mind goes over every relevant scenario, re-computes all appropriate data, and realizes that all of it was always pointing towards this exact conclusion. Then I spend countless hours at my computer trying to put it into words, which always seems to fail. There is so much more that I know, and it is far beyond any explanation I could ever put into words."

She could clearly see the anger in him now, the lid was almost bursting off his cup as he was squeezing it in his hand. "It must be frustrating," she spoke with kindness and caring, "I can help you." She took out one of her cards and wrote her home address and number on the back., then handed it to him. "Call me, or just show up after seven o-clock."

He inspected the card for a moment, then he spoke. "A psychiatrist. I should have known, a very good one I would guess, that's a pretty posh neighborhood. You think you can cure me?"

"I wouldn't want to, but I can help you release all that anger. I am certain the sex will be phenomenal."

"It will, and the conversation will be mutually orgasmic."

"I know." With that she got out of her seat, and she walked out. As she finished her walk home she wondered if she should have told him about her girlfriend. She wondered if maybe he already knew.

As he sat there, he wondered if he would call her. He wondered if he would ever allow himself to be vulnerable again. He doubted it, and he dropped her card into the trash can near the door as he walked out.