Call Me, Will You?

"Oh, well, I'm an author. Or. . .going to be. Hopefully."

Julie avoided eye contact with the stranger sitting on the barstool beside her and stared at the loose threads in her jeans. "Anyway, I should go," she said quietly and smiled.

"Go where?" the stranger asked. He saw Julie's small smile and grinned in response.

"I—what? I mean, home."

The stranger hummed. He tore a sheet of paper from the notebook tucked under his arm and retrieved a pen from the strap on the notebook. He quickly scribbled something onto the paper and he ripped part of the paper off. He passed the torn piece to Julie. "What's this?" Julie asked, glancing down at the note.

The boy just smiled. "Call me, will you?"