The Luncheon....

She was clumsy, as he'd never suspected of her.

The smile she tried on trembled like a reflection seen in a puddle; she reached for her water glass and knocked over the salt. Quickly she pinched up a few grains and tossed it back over her left shoulder. This amused him deliciously, and a wry smile erupted on his otherwise stern face.

He wondered : What was she seeing when she looked at him? Did she see the cynic or the romantic fool. Did she guess the depth of his lonliness, or the burgeoning love he felt for the other one.

His focus dropped to her mouth, the firm discreet colour of a shell's interior. A slick of moisture from her last drink glossed her lower lip.
That mouth said, baffling him, "I don't care if you are serious about that other woman. I'm not giving up on us yet!"

He stared at her.

She stared right back, her limpid eyes ablaze....the beginning of a smile touching her eyes, a smile of triumph over her internal doubts.

Around them silverware clinked, conversation ebbed and flowed, surging in his ears like his pulse.