Sunday afternoon: nothing to do
I went to the bookshop
At the 'Travel' section, she squatted
poring over a book
through the hair falling on her face
I pulled out a book, glanced at the pages
but sideglances on her: sharp nose, sad eyes
Her mobile fell, I picked it up. Our eyes met.
"Thank you." "No problem."
"I am so and so." "I am so and so."
"You are an interesting guy"
"It is nice meeting you too"
An hour passed by
One beauty, so many books, so little time
"Hey, have you read this?" "Hey have you read that?"
Another hour passed by. Time to leave
We shook hands. A gentle squeeze
"Hey, do yo have to go?" She replied, "Yes, sadly so"
"Why?" She replied, "Because we are different,
you like Bill Bryson, I like Pico Iyer"
She walked away but turned back for a moment
as if to say: "I didn't want to leave, but I have to"