unrequited pie

i cannot see her from where i sit but i hear her voice rise above the din, reaching over the counter, trying to touch him one last time, if at all, one last attempt to connect before they are severed, if they are not already severed. they are severed. severed. i can hear it in her voice, in that desperate announcement: "will i see you later? have a good time. i love you." and the love you falls to the dirty floor where it will lie scuffed among the unblinking. i am sitting there trying to write the most beautiful email ever. yes, i know. and i even told her that when i came in and ordered my tea and a slice of marionberry pie and would it like that warm? yes, of course i would like that warm. and would you like some whipped cream too? why yes, i would very much like some whipped cream! i remembered him when i came in, he was sulking at the end of the counter. i wasn't sure it was him because i haven't seen him in a long while but somehow intuited who it was and dialed down my usual flirting. something about the way that i love you just hung there, so obvious and unanswered. he paused at the door and looked back at her, said nothing, said everything. i've seen more love in the eyes of a feeding shark. i know what it's like to be left hanging, your need exposed, your wanting unrequited. i stopped by the counter to say goodbye. i told her i saw citizen kane last night, and though i loved it, i thought it was really sad. she said she saw it too and agreed that it was both really good & very sad. she asked me how my email went and i told that it was long, meandering, mundane, and utterly artless. i told her that i had failed beauty this evening and that if she wanted to know how to locate beauty that she should ask someone else as i clearly do not know where beauty lives today. and with that i bid her farewell.