Afraid to Love Read Online Free PDF Page B

close the window, but stopped myself. Mark would never know it was me that ordered his book. It would be sent straight from the publisher. It was one of those deals where books were only printed when they were ordered. I wonder how many books he had sold. It had to be enough to live on, because he hadn't mentioned having a real job.
    I opened another tab to check my bank account balance and grinned. I switched tabs and ordered his book. I even paid extra to get it within forty-eight hours. It most likely wouldn't be delivered by our date Friday evening, but it would give me something to do this weekend.
     
    Chapter 4: Mark
     
    I hung around the coffee shop for about an hour after Cynthia left. I didn't have my laptop with me so I wrote my notes frantically. I felt the grin on my face spreading from ear to ear as my mind replayed her smile and laughter. Every time I thought about how she agreed to go on a real date with me Friday night, I laughed out loud. It was foolish of me to be so excited about such a small thing, but as a writer I know that small moments in the end make an entire lifetime. We are the sum of the moments we experience. When I'm an old man, I want to look back at a lifetime of tiny moments and know there were more good than bad, more moments that made me laugh out loud than made me angry or upset. Life is too short to be anything but happy.
    The sun had set by the time I left the coffee shop, but the staff was used to me wasting away my time there. I tipped well enough that they left me be. I walked slowly through the streets, taking in the sights of the world around me. Happy couples seemed to be everywhere. They were holding hands, embracing, and stealing kisses when they thought no one was watching.
    For the first time, I noticed not many of them were mixed couples. Maybe that's why Cynthia had seemed reluctant to accept my invitation to dinner. I shrugged the thought off. I had spent nearly twenty-eight years not caring what people thought about me and I wasn't about to start now. To me, skin color had never been of importance. Growing up, I had friends from all over the world and had never been told that it was wrong. It wasn't until high school that I realized some people thought it was wrong. I was flabbergasted that anyone in modern times could be so ignorant and shallow.
    There was only one thing that was bothering me. Cynthia's conversation with the manager of the coffee shop was off putting. I had watched the drama of Justin and his girlfriend unfold from a corner table and knew the kid was miserable. He was in love with the girl and she wanted nothing to do with him. She had even broken up with him while he was on the clock.
    When I arrived home, I checked the mail. I always head out with the sunrise and most nights don't make it home until long after the sun has disappeared so I usually had mail waiting for me. I kicked off my shoes at the door and sat down on my bed. The first three envelopes were bills, but the fourth looked like it might be from a publisher. Frowning, I opened it. When I was younger I was always hopeful when a letter from a publisher arrived, but these days I knew it would just be another rejection slip to add to the box. I had to read the letter twice to make sure I had really read what I thought I had. After reading my synopsis for the latest science fiction book I had written, they wanted to see the manuscript.
    I tossed the letter aside and hooked up my laptop to the printer. After checking and rechecking the formatting requirements I printed the manuscript. I knew it was going to take forever to print so I decided to call my dad while I waited. He wouldn't be as excited as I was. He thought that I should have given up writing a long time ago and found a real job. It was my mother who had always been my biggest fan. A pang of grief hit me in the stomach as I searched my bag for my cellphone. I silently wished this letter had come years earlier so she could be alive to