lunch hour

She sat at the table, enjoying her lunch in solitude. So sure of her desires, so sure that this was what she wanted, she did her best to ignore those who passed by. This was her escape from the daily grind, and from those she worked with; this was what she wanted.

Glancing up at every face that gazed at hers, she would quickly look back down at her food. From twelve to one, she didn't exist and refused to be acknowledged. This was her lunch - they could do as they pleased, but she needed her space. She needed to recover, alone.

A man, about her age, caught her eyes while walking past her, and it didn't strike her to refuse him. She barely smiled, as if distracted by what she was seeing, distracted by the moment, but his eyes didn't turn away. Continuing his course, he came closer and closer, and she was sure that she could somehow feel the heat of his body... embracing him through the air, finally finding a release from her loneliness. Her skin warmed in response to his distant touch, blushing to reveal her desire, but she held her gaze... as if to tell him...

She thought she caught him smirking as he walked by. His pace never even faltered - he just kept going... she breathed a sigh of relief. "Good," she thought. She was again sure that she wanted to spend her lunch in solitude.