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Sometimes she isn't here and I'm left face to face with an old lady. She has an accent I can't place and she's very nice, but she isn't my girl. She isn't the girl with the face that could launch a thousand ships. No, not thousands. Millions.

But tonight she is here. Her head is bent over a crossword puzzle and her brows are creased in concentration. I'm thankful we're the only two in here so I can take a second to look at her. I've created a name for her in my head. Helen. Helen, the woman who launched a thousand ships. She suddenly looks up.

"Hi," her voice is a little raspy. I wonder if she has a sore throat. "How are you?"

How are you. She didn't stop at hi this time. We're making progress. It's hard to keep from grinning. "I'm good, thanks. You?"

"I'm fine," Helen doesn't look fine. Dark blue circles are etched under her eyes and her face is especially pale. "Camel blues?"

My heart receives an electric shock that she remembered. I smile, despite trying not to. "Yes, thanks." Helen never asks to see my ID. No minor would have a sleeve of tattoos or as much scruff on their face as I do. I can't blame her, but I wish she would ask once. Just once, so she might get a chance to see my name. I'd give anything to hear my name escape from those peachy pink lips.

She grabs a pack of my cigarettes from behind the counter and hands them to me. "Eight fifty five."

I want to bottle that voice and keep it all to myself. I hand her a twenty. "Keep the change," I tell her. Her eyes bore into mine and I feel the stare down to my toes. Helen hesitantly smiles.

"Thanks," the rasp makes her sound even sexier. I have to leave. If I stay any longer I'll say or do something I'll regret. "Have a good night," she adds as I turn to leave.

She doesn't know what she's doing to me.