Flash

It is afternoon and I complete my work early.

All the blocks of green on my electronic calendar have collapsed into thin slivers, cheerful reminders of tasks turned away.

I try not to look ahead to the next day. Now is enough.

I will go out for a walk, to get some coffee.

It is chilly.

The sun shines distantly.

I begin to cross the path of a parked bus. The engine churns, pulsating against the asphalt.

I scan warily around the corner to search out racing cars.

One of my deep fears is being hit by a car.

My gaze focuses to my left.

A flash. A burst of movement. Toward me, straight ahead on the crosswalk. My heart pounds. Everything telescopes. Eyes. At first I only see wide eyes flashing. A smile, open and round. Waving hands, twirling. A young woman. My pulse rushes. The distance between us nearly collapsed. I vaguely recognize her. I think I do. Someone I used to trust but no longer see. Is that smile for me? Her eyes dart past, her stare focused further in the distance. I've affixed a smile on my face, anticipating some meeting.

But it is not for me,

that smile.

She is racing

to catch the bus.