***
*Louise**
As he is walking towards her he is already walking away. She thought today would be the day, the one where she seized the moment with a simple “bonjour” that would make him smile. Oh, how she prayed it would make him smile, if she’d seized the moment.
Every day for ever it’s been like this – each time different yet the end result is the same. They pass in the street. They make eye contact. They don’t make eye contact. He smiles and she is miles away, making mental lists of shopping to buy, bills to pay, family to keep in touch with. She smiles and he is distracted by a noise behind him. They make eye contact. They don’t make eye contact…
She goes home, her feet feeling every step over the cobbled street. She takes off her shoes, sighs and tries to put him from her mind.
Sometimes she thinks about him as she’s making dinner in her tiny kitchen. Would he like her cassoulet? Does he prefer red wine or white? Le Monde or Le Figaro?
She knows nothing about him, except what she can glean from the clothes he wears, the look in his eyes and the way he moves. Today he was old and weary. Yesterday he walked with the light step of a young man embracing his life. The day before, he was thoughtful, measured. Sometimes he has the air of a man in charge, others, he has lost everything he has ever valued. Today was one of those days.
She wonders if it is too late. If the children would ever forgive her for meeting someone else. Could she ever dare to fall in love again?
Will she get to learn what puts the youthful spring in his step, what weights lie across his broad shoulders. Will she ever find out what it takes to make him laugh?
There is always tomorrow, she tells herself firmly. Always tomorrow.
Blog photograph copyrighted to the photographer and used with permission by utata.org. All photographs used on utata.org are stored on flickr.com and are obtained via the flickr API. Text is copyrighted to the author, Debra Broughton and is used with permission by utata.org. Please see Show and Share Your Work
