He should have verified of being out of her field vision, before exulting with a old-fashioned galop in the middle of the street.
She grabbed the end of the skirt and exclaimed “This is really pretty indeed”, whispering as she folded the hem and noticing the loose stitches in the inside.
She was waiting for him to get ready, lingering her eyes on some knickknacks around – porcelain elephants, old grocery tickets, pens from work.
By the time he came back with a different shirt on, he noticed the shelves being much tidier.
They were sitting next to each other and both staring the screen of her phone: and now that he got closer to her, he noticed clumps of a yellowish glue at the base of her eyelashes.
Not satisfied of what she had seen, still she closed the mirror door and left the bedroom.
Looking at him, she was not quite sure he’d still think sometimes about the years they spent together.
She placed her purse on the hook under the bar; it was her first time in that club and yet she knew where to find it, how to wait for the bartender’s attention, and what to order: a gin tonic – you can never go wrong with that.
She relaxed now that she knew alcohol would not long arrive. She looked around the place: blonde men showing muscles behind tight shirts, ladies suffering the cold in sleeve-less dresses, young kids disguising themselves as adults.
She tried to get that thought back, but it was all too much of something she’d already seen a thousands of times.