She was pretty
but no more so than a road side flower
or a bird song trilled in the shadows
she served as nothing more than a distraction that afternoon

Paul talked on and on
with eyes like ice over pavement
blue on grey
and an intense, interested gaze

She sat behind him, over his left shoulder
alone, and agitatedly so
she never looked up, or so much as glanced in my direction
finally, she went downstairs and was nearly forgotten
until she returned a few moments later, and left having never ordered a thing

I cannot be sure
but I think her eyes were wet from tears when she entered the windy afternoon.

AcB 04.16.01