On the Trail

Julia could not help it. As she felt her stomach rumble, loudly enough that she winced and hoped nobody was close enough to have heard that, she began to zero in on the direction from which the tempting smell came. Over there. She scanned the people quickly, finally noticing a man who seemed to be walking nonchalantly in a very contrived manner. She was not quite sure how that was possible, but that was the way it appeared to her. 

Making a b-line for the man, her gaze intent upon his fry container, it only occured to her once she had closed some of the distance that she was staring at a stranger, far too intently. He probably thought she was disturbed or irate. She might just look a bit like she was pursuing him.

Ok, so she sort of was.

The fact that he had been observing her had not even been noted. She was too absorbed with her own disgust at her sandwich and interest in his french fries.

There was a moment to make a decision: lengthen her stride to try to catch him, or try to appear nonchalant herself, try to find some way to be subtle. Unfortunately, subtle was not exactly one of Julia's skills. Neither were patience or grace. And she could not touch her nose with her tongue although she had tried numerous times in front of the mirror at home where no one else could laugh. She could, however tie a knot in a cherry stem with her tongue. Only her best friends were aware of this fact.

Her stomach rumbled insistently, and she decided that was her answer. Her strides lengthened, and she tried to close the distance between them.

Tried being the operative word. The man's strides also lengthened. It was probably a fairly comic scene as the two of them began a walking race.

In the end, Julia caught up. She was determined, and driven by her love of fries. "Wait!" she panted, feeling ridiculously out of breath as she tried to keep up despite the fact that the man had tried very hard to ignore her and just walk fast enough that she would give up.

"I just want to know where you got your french fries."

It was at that inopportune, or perhaps opportune, moment that Julia's stomach again made a demanding entreaty. Or gurgle, depending on interpretation.

The End

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