I know it must sound cliche, but I've seen you at Starbucks a dozen times by now and I can't keep my eyes off you. I don't know what it is... the glint in your eyes, the way you toss your hair, the way you sip your Brownie Frappuccino, or all the above, but I'm entranced. I don't know your name, yet, and you probably think all these emotions welling up inside me are absurd, but I assure you they're the real deal -- it's hate at first sight.
Although you may not know it, we're destined to be arch-enemies. I sincerely hope you realize it soon, because otherwise my victory will be all too easy. I've got your schedule down pat, and I know what mornings to expect you for coffee and what evenings you stay up late with your laptop. One of these nights you might find a little surprise waiting for you on your doorstep when you get home. An ambush in the restroom? Not at all out of the question. A long walk on the beach and a moonlight duel? Possibly. Fine dining, with poison? That's my idea of a perfect first date-with-death.
My heart races every time you look up from your paper or check your watch... thinking, hoping that you might glance my way and see the hatred in my eyes. I've run through countless scenarios in my head, conversations we might have, but I'd hardly know what to say if I ever dared approach you to stick a knife in your ribs. No, no, it's safer if I loathe you from afar and merely fantasize about what could be: a little house, kids playing, a puppy, you impaled on a white picket fence, and me towering above your twitching corpse, triumphant!