THE PLAN

"Why do things always come in threes," he thought to himself.

Three kinds of girls always scared him away. The ones who were so confident in their abilities. The ones who were so easy to talk to. The ones who were so nice looking.

This was the third time he had tried the strategy. It was a simple strategy. But it hadn't worked yet.

He carried his package covered up with a new cloth bag that they sell at the grocery store. The green bags, rather than paper or plastic. Inside was his own creation.

He went to the Minneapolis International Airport, rode the tram to the area that allowed him closest access to the gate where she'd be getting off.

He'd see her. She wouldn't recognize him. He'd hug her. He'd call her by name. She'd be puzzled. They'd talk. They'd connect. He'd give her the bag. And its contents.

There was one glitch in the plan. He wouldn't know her. But he'd act as if he did. Then after they connected, he'd reveal that it was coincidental that the woman he was looking for was not she. But he'd let her keep his masterpiece. With hope of a continuing relationship.

"Shelly," he said after surveying no wedding ring. The hug. She pulled away almost immediately.

"Excuse me," she was startled but not scared. Not pleased either.

"You're not Shelly from Flight 33?"

"Nooo." She started to walk away.

"Just a minute. Was there anyone else on the plane that looked like you?"

"I have to go."

"But where's Shelly?"

"I wouldn't have the slightest," she added, none too politely.

"But I made this butterfly house just for her," he took it out of the cloth bag.

She kept on walking.

The loser reinserted the butterfly house into the bag.

"Maybe four." Maybe fourth time will be the charm.

He headed for Gate 17A. There was a flight due in from Portland. He will be looking for Allison.