Oh, Let Me Count the Ways
After 30 years of longing and self-imposed madness, still gifted with a sixth sense about her, Jack took to counting pickup trucks; no idea why that particular item, except they were handy, numerous, and ubiquitous. The goal was ten thousand even, but with an added handicap of no red or white ones, and no extended cabs. When he added the last truck on I-81, he stopped for coffee in the next town as a kind of 'seal the deal' event, wondering with rock-solid certainty not "if" but "when" 'it' would happen.
As he was getting up to leave the door jangled open and three stout blowsy middle-aged women walked in, brushing by as he shrugged awkwardly into his jacket. One of the voices reached him, resonating for a very long moment before he threw down the tip with a clatter, getting just a glimpse of her as he passed their table--nahh, he thought, it couldn't be. Back in the car again, he looked around the parking lot. "One", he said, "two, three, four..."