Greedy Hands (Digital)

Hands.

They’re greedy little suckers.

At least, that’s what Boris believes.

Every morning at exactly the same time, he walks three blocks to Rosa’s coffee shop, dressed immaculately, rehearsed to perfection, and ready to admire the woman he loves.

Francis Goodwin.

Frankie.

Only he calls her that.

From his carefully chosen table — the third from the door — Boris watches her move through the café with honeyed curls, red lipstick, and soft, subtle dances to the same quarter-past-eight song. To him, every glance is a signal. Every hesitation is desire. Every protest is playful denial.

Because in Boris’s mind, they belong together.

Completely.

When other men speak to her, laugh with her, lean too close to the counter — their hands become the enemy. Greedy. Filthy. Reaching for something that is his.

And Boris does not share.

As the days pass, his devotion deepens into something far more suffocating. He memorizes her schedule. Watches her window at night. Plants olive trees beneath her apartment as symbols of a future she doesn’t know she’s agreed to.

But roots grow best in disturbed soil.

Darkly intimate and chillingly unreliable, Greedy Hands is a psychological short story told from inside the mind of a man who mistakes obsession for love and possession for destiny.

Seductive in tone. Disturbing in execution. Unsettling in its quiet escalation.

Because sometimes the most dangerous villains aren’t monsters in the shadows.

They’re the ones smiling across the coffee shop table.

And their hands are never still.