sitting at a table in the bar.
I thought I should go and
talk to her.
Her smile was bright, hereyes were sharp, she had a
crisp, gentle laugh.
She carried herself well.
I imagined us together,walking along a beach,
strolling along the city
streets window shopping.
I imagined carrying ourmutual possessions into
a shared living space, or
dancing in an unpacked living room.
I was building the courageto speak to her and was about to
step in her direction just as
she backed her wheelchair from the table.
“Crap, I live in a three story walk-up,without an elevator,” I thought.
I didn’t go and speak to her. She andher group left the place and I don’t think
I’ll see her there again.