It is the late afternoon
The sun is setting over the city of Seattle and shadows fall underneath buildings
One after the other, lying on their backs mimicking jealousy to the tall giants
She will be in her kitchen stirring lemon grass tea, humming a song she'd heard earlier that day
Perhaps on the radio, perhaps on television, perhaps on the train
She'd glide onto her balcony over-looking endless roofs of houses, buildings and cars
She will never jump, she will never lean
She will simply sit and read books, mystery books, love books, books about everything, books about nothing, she read it all and he loved that but he hated it too
Wondered how someone could detach themselves from the real world to live in one made of only words
Yet though he questioned her motives, she continued
It has been a year, 4 months, and 3 days since her eyes last met his
Time has moved slow, crutched along, eased forward, never taking steps back
The tape hardly ever rewinds and if it does, only for a brief moment
She will be on the train and suddenly he steps inside
He looks just like him from behind
The jacket, the hair, the shoes and then he turns, revealing nothing but a stranger on a train
She will be sitting in a café and suddenly, the sweet and distinct smell of him reigns over her
And she will look around frantically, perhaps he is here
But then reality reminds her that he is back home, swimming in the little city
Accustomed to every street name and curve in the road
She is in Seattle, a runaway, a dreamer
It is late afternoon
The sun is setting over the city of Seattle and shadows fall underneath buildings
She will be in her kitchen, stirring lemon grass tea, humming his favorite song
