The Beholder

Part One

The cafe door chimed, my traitorous eyes glancing up yet again from my book. I froze, my breath catching in my chest. She was enrapturing—the kind of woman who puts you in cardiac arrest. Her honey-blonde hair glittered in the sunlight, her brown eyes twinkling under long dark lashes. She smiled, and my legs numbed. Her voice was like syrup cascading from petal-pink lips. She ordered her drink and flirted delicately with the bartender, her every word and move as fluid as the milk he artistically poured into her cup. And as she picked up her coffee with elegant fingers and floated out the door, I sat there, watching her leave my life, with her not even knowing she had entered it at all.

Part Two

The cafe door chimed, my traitorous eyes glancing up yet again from my book. I froze, my breath catching in my chest. Even from where I sat, the staleness, the rot of vanity, permeated my nostrils. She walked past the old man, trying to raise himself out of his seat, his cane clattering to the floor. Her honey-blonde hair glittered in the sunlight, her brown eyes empty under long dark lashes. I felt sick. She smiled, and my legs numbed. Her voice was like hearing a sharp note when you expected a flat. She ordered her drink and flirted with the bartender, batting her eyelashes profusely. He poured the milk quickly, handed over the cup and immediately turned away. As she picked up her coffee with elegant fingers and floated out the door, I sat there, watching her leave my life, her thinking she had changed it forever, when in fact, it was much better without her in it.