She would tell the stranger about how she is meeting someone here in an hour, but until then she is scribbling random anecdotes in hopes of capturing a brilliant line or two. These she would store away for that novel she's always wanted to write.
Instead, no one talks to her. In fact, she is fairly certain no one is even looking at her. Which is perfect since she plans to people-watch in a few minutes.
Suddenly she begins to judge herself.
She is insane.
She is insane and creepy and secretive.
Just like a writer.
More to come from her. Don't know when she will decide to publicly share more anecdotes, though. She is kind of self-conscious about some of them. I'll try to persuade her to post more sometime.