At a table for one, Cindy orders herb tea. In the empty café she looks out into the receding afternoon light. When she brings her gaze back to the table, she makes out the vague outline of a man.
“What is it my dear?” He emerges from her wishful sigh.
“I don’t know,” her silence answers. Unconsciously coy, she looks down at her lap, then glances back up just enough to let him see the stage her face has become. Lines of fear etch a mask of rejection.
“Why do you leave me?”
“Hmmm? Did you say something?” The waitress brings a cup of steaming tea and a saucer of sliced lemon. Cindy shakes her head, pulls back her draping blond hair, and leans forward. She takes in the mint scent. Let’s it fill her in the good faith that health comes from dried us herbs.
Then her throat itches. She coughs, shattering the transparent man who has been watching her. She pushes the tea cup to the other side of the table and stares at him. He smiles and gets up just as the fingers of an early fog chill seep in through the café’s open door. Sensing him touching her shoulders, Cindy she cautiously turns her neck to look. The man places a shawl around her, smoothing out its black fringe.
“You left me!” She bites into the lemon. Its bitterness curls her lips.
“I am here.”
Cindy nods. “Yes, you are, but for how long?”
He is about to tell her “forever” but she’s not listening Her focus is now on a couple who has just stepped inside.
“Table for two?” They ask.
Cindy ‘s face flushes. “How dare they! Can’t they see we want to be alone?”
The man does not reply. Cindy glares at him.
He finally says in a whisper, “Not now, Cindy. Not here.” Then floats out of her view.
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