This is the quiet corner where she felt the shift.<\/p>\n
A single post, peppered with scraps of old announcements.\u00a0 The concrete curve of a planter.\u00a0 A sandwich board announcing some snooty boutique.<\/p>\n
Across the street, the gas station sank into the concrete, ponderously keeping its chin above the pavement line with a lopsided smile that was anything but welcoming.\u00a0 They walked in there, briefly, three points of life with murky but undeniable connections.\u00a0 Cigarettes and change.\u00a0 They walked out again.<\/p>\n
Here on the sidewalk, grooves and scuffs where shoes have been.\u00a0 Her shoes fit here; his shoes fit there.\u00a0 Their feet were just so when she smelled the rain, the inescapable storm of emotion.\u00a0 The sky was cloudless.<\/p>\n
Behind them were arranged the chairs and tables, weather-worn outdoor furniture.\u00a0 She had her hands in her back pockets, twirling slowly on the toe of one shoe, putting on the back burner the idea that his constant gaze on her was more than just him being a generally observant person.<\/p>\n
Corporate coffee never seemed so appealing.\u00a0 The smell didn\u2019t give her a headache all afternoon.\u00a0 She was too busy turning over in her mind the thrill of the warmth from where their legs touched under the table.\u00a0 Ambitions and scripts were secondary; the tingle on the back of her neck and the cautious warmth spreading under her eyes took control of her thoughts.<\/p>\n
But it wasn\u2019t until the quiet corner that she really felt the shift.<\/p>\n
An excuse to move, to go off mostly alone, to see if the pressure in her chest was the oppressive coffee shop air or the power of his presence.\u00a0 She led them outside, aware of his friend but only as a distant positive force keeping him steady.\u00a0 She found herself believing she was canny enough to know what was going on in his eyes, behind the shades.\u00a0 It made her shiver and walk a little faster.<\/p>\n
They did what they came to do, toured the block, paused for him at the bank.\u00a0 It was hard for her not to dance in place\u2014the excitement became energy became excuses not to go back inside.\u00a0 Excuses to linger on that quiet corner.<\/p>\n
She listened to the lilt of his voice and adored the particulars and peculiarities of how he crafted sentences.\u00a0 She traced his posture with her gaze, pretending to watch the sparse traffic behind him.<\/p>\n
She realized she might just fall for him.<\/p>\n
She realized she already was falling, and that the realization was itself a tug on the safety rope she\u2019d prepared for herself in case her foolish heart tried another headfirst dive into romance.<\/p>\n
She realized she didn\u2019t want the rope.<\/p>\n
So in her mind, she took the knot in her hands and lovingly untied it.\u00a0 Now was not the time for caution or emotional curfews; now was the time to jump and trust that something would catch her.<\/p>\n
Or someone.<\/p>\n
She looked up at him and smiled.\u00a0 It was at the perfect moment: a joke or a jab had been said, so it seemed she was just reentering the flow of conversation.\u00a0 But he was quick to smile back, and she knew she\u2019d be found out soon enough, if he hadn\u2019t already sensed her walls going down.<\/p>\n
It was only a matter of time.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"
This is the quiet corner where she felt the shift. A single post, peppered with scraps of old announcements.\u00a0 The concrete curve of a planter.\u00a0 A sandwich board announcing some snooty boutique. Across the street, the gas station sank into the concrete, ponderously keeping its chin above the pavement line with a lopsided smile that … <\/p>\n