She is dating again. She has a type. He is athletic, a foot taller, and wears his hair high and tight. They share a love of comfortable sandals and outfits one might see in the gym.
Her bra is padded. This is how I know they are dating. There wasn’t this much effort into peacocking in the past.
Her hand is quick into the purse to pull out money for coffee. She is her own person, will pay her own way, she does not need a man. Still, she has one. It has been months of lonely sitting at the single tables pecking away at her phone in texts.
The big man has entered. He has a lady friend and I am happy to see this. He lumbers in line. Everyone has hope, everyone a chance.
Before heading out the door, their hands brush against the backs of one another in first touch. Her blush response is quick. She looks up as he holds the door for her in an uncommon gesture in her life. She smiles.
Will I see him again?