At a table set for two, in a quiet corner, they sit across; an emotional sun sets acrimoniously behind them. She goes on munching something in silence, never once lifting her face, to make the picture perfect.
He sits there, like dumbstruck not a single moment taking eyes off her pretty face, as if, she'd vanish if he does.
Entwined in a mutually absorbing deliquescence? Or each one beyond the reach of other's mind?
Over a cup of coffee going too cold, to drink now an intrusive character idling on the table next staring alternatively at both inanely wonder: "The beginning or the end?"