It doesn't take much.
She hasn't seen him for a year,
or ten months and a day
to be precise.
But when she entered the store
two minutes earlier
and hurried to the aisle with
hygiene items and perfumery,
she hadn't prepared for this.

It doesn't take much
and with something as small as
a single turn of her head
their eyes meet.
It's unfortunate, deplorable and
a wave of electric pain shoots through
her.
Before she has barely seen him see
her
she turns her stare back to the shelves
packed with makeup and shaving cream.
She need not see more of him to know
he looks the same.
That dark, tousled hair.
That soft look in his dark eyes.
That olive skin she used to caress.
That scorpion tattooed on his neck.
The electricity in her chest caused
her heart to jump up in her throat.
She feels sick.
Why does he always do this?
This isn't fair.
She hates him.
And his unexpected kiss last year
means ****
considering his girl and
their newborn daughter.
It's not fair
the way he influences her
when she can't even make him flinch
at the sight of her
the way she does.

It doesn't take much
and in the car
on her way home
she almost doesn't cry.