This was written at a prompt from Nina Pelletier (http://writingofanovel.blogspot.com/). The prompt was to write a 500 word or less piece about what a character thought of you. This is my response.
I sat down at the small table. There was a light breeze rustling through the cobblestone streets, chilling a cloudy day. The perfect day for a pleasant cafe meeting. He was making me wait, of course; I expected that. He likes his control.
I take a sip of my coffee.
'Enjoying yourself?" he asks, sitting in a relaxed position in the wire-wrought chair across from me.
There had been no announcement. There rarely was. He liked to show off; it made him happy. Besides, it wasn't like he was in any danger.
"Always." I reply, smiling. "It's coffee."
He rolls his eyes.
Today he wore a business suit; simple, black and elegant, complete with tie and white dress shirt. It clashed with his hair; long and red with orange highlights, where he had gotten his name.
"Why am I here?" he asked, straight and to the point. "And is there anything stronger than coffee?"
"Not strong enough. Not for you, anyway." I answer.
He sighs. "There rarely is."
"You're here to tell me what you think of me."
He laughs. "As if there's anything new about that!"
"There is this time." I reply."This time others will get to hear you."
"O, well that's different." he says, crossing his legs. "In that case..."
I stop, set down my cup, and breathe.
"I think you try to hard. I think you have this little game you play with yourself, sometimes pretending you're a pervert or an asshole. I don't think you give yourself enough credit for what you are, and I don't think you know where the act ends and you begin."
"See? I told you."
And then I was along with my coffee and my thoughts.