The young woman walked out of Wrigley Field, her head bowed in sorrow – her Cubs had lost. She knew that once the initial pain was over, the eternal optimism that marked a baseball fan (and a Cubs fan at that) would brighten her outlook on life. Tomorrow was another day after all, and the season was still young.
Unfortunately, in her grief, she wasn’t watching where she was going, and she looked up just in time to run into the back of a tall man in an overcoat.
“Oh my gosh! I’m so sorry!” she apologized in embarrassment as the man turned around to look at her. She thought it odd that he didn’t seem at all surprised to have strange women bumping into him, but then she became too busy admiring his strong features and blue eyes to think any further. His eyes seemed to look straight into her soul ...
“That’s all right, Miss ...” he said.
“Holly. My name’s Holly,” she replied, holding out her hand.
The man took her hand gently in his and smiled at her. Raising his hand to his head, he briefly tipped his old-fashioned fedora.
“Hello, Holly. My name’s John.” He paused, and then continued diffidently, “Would you perhaps be interested in grabbing a cup of coffee with me?”