The Man Who Couldn't Die

Her name is Holland Duquet and she visited that bookstore almost everyday. He knew because he watched her from the shoe shop window. She was a dancer who had classes with his cousin. That is how he knew her name. He saw her pick up a different book everyday, sit and read, buy it, and then walk down south and turn the corner where he wouldn't see her again until the next day.

He walked in and approached her as she read The Great Gatsby by F. Scott Fitzgerald.

"Hi."

She looked up with a smile on her face, her blue eyes locking with his and she raised an eyebrow, and said, "Hello?"

"I was wondering if you could help me with something," he said rather loudly, but he was a loud guy.

"Okay...?" she said, skeptically.

"Whattaya think about this Hitler guy? I mean, would you rather date him or me?"

She stared at him for a second. He kept the look on his face, raising his eyebrow and even leaning against his elbows so his face was close to hers.

"I think you both should shove a foot up your ass. More him than you, though."

He grinned.

Oh, he liked her already.