Sighting

Sitting on the first floor of the Grand Voyageur lounge at Gare de Lyon, barricaded by one or two suitcases, you were wearing an unbleached jacket, a patterned green shirt and light-coloured trousers. Your chestnut hair, slightly ashen, was neatly styled in a short ponytail. I walked past you to get a chocolate from the local coffee machine. I was wearing a gold arm bracelet, black trousers and a slightly shiny navy blue t-shirt to highlight the blondness of my medium-length hair. During that brief moment, you didn’t stop looking at me despite the fact that you were on the phone. And I’ve been wondering ever since, if I’d asked you why… Why did your eyes land on me so intensely? What would you have said to me? If you ever read this message, I’d like to know…

A Dinner