Another Sunny Afternoon

An Indian tent atop her head: the knot of hair around two sticks. He couldn’t take his eyes of it the entire morning. That the presentation was quite worthless, his presence of no consequence, was a saver. She walked out. He hurried out behind her. The wobbly tent inches below his chin.  “Hey”. “Hey”, she said absentmindedly without looking up. “Lunch?”. “Haven’t thought about it”. “So then lunch, Yes?!” She slanted sideways, gave a incredulous half-smile, paused, followed it with a shake of her head, grinned this time and said  “ok!”.

He had abruptly noticed the tent again after three years. He looked at her face, indulgently smiled and thought he should make an attempt to listen. She suddenly paused mid-sentence. She let a minute pass. Then she leaned in over the iced tea and said, “I’ve met someone else”.