The White Stripes blasting in my ears,

palms slapping a relentless tattoo,

fingers strumming an invisible guitar,

the music builds to a crescendo,

and I am a go…

 

“Excuse me, you are next,” she taps my elbow.

 

I turn sharply and see this vision, this russet-flamed goddess.

with round glasses that accentuate her cerulean eyes,

the tiniest of wrinkles that relay her joie de vivre,

and her little smile as she humours my slack-jawed reaction.

 

“Er, um, thanks, sorry, thanks,” I mutter and stutter in embarrassment.

 

I step forward to greet the grinning barista.

I convey my order, God knows what it was.

I am ever conscious of her beguiling presence.

This invisible force that compels me to look, once more.

 

I do, and she is not there.

I swivel and scan.

I locate her belatedly.

 

She is already out the door, phone on ear,

laughing gaily, a lilt in her voice

going forth into the unknown.

 

She leaves my life.

 

And I, bereft, return to mine.

 

© 2021 S Phua