She knew how the sunlight ran its warm fingers between her smooth brown thighs, how her shadow swayed with her skirt when she walked in front of him. She felt him following and with a sidelong glance shook hair away from her face, aware how it fell, faint suggestion of joy, to the arch of her back. She knew his want and let it surround her. She let him choose the music, pull the blind unless he wanted it up so the sun could run pale fingers from lips to nipples to soft belly hairs. They both said love was brief and parted still believing it. But the years came unasked for, and still she walks that street watching her shadow flirt with the sun,
wishing he would follow her again.