Woman At The Bar

She sat perched delicately at the bar counter on a high stool. Her drape dress was lifelessly hanging like a noose on the ground below.

She was with a man. He looked successful with high fashion clothing choices on him.

I noticed her aura. She was more charming and stylish than him. She seemed controlled in her demeanour. There was an inherent need in her to downplay herself with him. I noticed in her body language the eagerness to please him. She kept leaning forward to speak to him.

He sat with her but was not with her this evening. I kept worrying was it like this evening the everyday norm for her? He was staring intently into the huge television screen ahead.

There was a match going on. He seemed engrossed in the game more than the conversation she was trying to make with him.

She was animatedly trying to say something as he sat back relaxed and distant with her.

I watched like a voyeur.

For me, it is always such a revelation to watch human beings. Especially when they are unaware that they are being watched.

He barely smiled. Finally after 30 minutes. She concentrated on the fries below on the counter, took large gulps of her drink, and pulled out her phone.

He was oblivious all along. As she took out her phone, our eyes met and she smiled at me. I smiled back at her in an unspoken sisterhood of sorts.

We both knew that we were alone in this crowd of imperfect relationships, bonhomie, and drunks trying to drown themselves in their stupor.

The sunlight from the bar atrium shone like a halo around her face. Making her look like a rejected goddess in the bar. She was a sight, with her lipstick smeared fries, her lashes heavy with an ardent need to escape.

The large solitaire ring was dulled with her inner halo that shone inspite of her thwarted heart.


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