He Could Be The One

It's the back of his head. The shape of his neck, how his ears sit on the sides of his skull. The way his spine moves, if it's fluid or locked; Zoe falls in love with the back of his body. A rather attractive guy gets on the streetcar or passes by on the sidewalk. She sees him check her out; she makes eye contact, then starts the checklist: could I love that neck? Do I see myself with those ears for the rest of my life? That back- rather rigid and held through the thoracic mid section, doesn't seem to have a lot of awareness going on. Probably not athletically inclined. Oh, wait. No, that would never do. He has no bum. Flat assed. Oh no. Nononono. I can't see loving that, no, not me.
Another man sits down. He's directly across from her in the coffee shop, pulls out his laptop, plugs in his earbuds and starts to tap away, focused and easy, with a calm, zen-like energy. Zoe is intrigued. He gets up from the table to fetch his order off the bar and she sees it: the bald spot and creeping hair line, with the oddly shaped directional corkscrew of hair hidden in the nape of his neck. Her lips purse almost reflexively. He has a great bum, though. And hands- glorious, beautiful, well articulated fingers with genetically perfect nail beds and well muscled palms, meaning he knows how to use them to do things other than type, like picking things up and making things happen. Zoe pauses. Maybe the back of his neck isn't a deal breaker since those hands are stellar, downright award winning. She waits, with baited breath as he picks up his coffee and walks back to his seat. Bingo. He smiles at the barista. He gives way to the harried mom with her stroller trying to manoeuvre her way to the counter, then he reinstalls himself in his chair and catches Zoe's eye. He smiles and his mouth opens just enough so that she sees it and the heavens above sing - a slight gap between his left front and eye tooth. Subtle, just a sliver, but it tells her he's wonderful: not quite perfect, which is perfect for her.