Grey
I find myself compelled to watch. To listen to the sounds around me. To try and decipher why I am here, so close. Why does everything fall away into nothing, into what I can only guess is a delicately chosen persona of a woman always on her own.
She sits across from me, her hair tucked away from her face so the scowl of concentration can be clearly seen by the rest of the rooms occupants. They give her the space that she demands from them. I have spent the last few days carelessly watching now. I couldn’t help but inch my way closer. I want to know the colour of her eyes, the texture of her skin. The real face behind her mask of power. Now here I am, in her line of sight, letting the black coffee I had ordered turn cold and bitter, just waiting for her to look up. To meet my questions silently with her own, does she know that I am too close, that my intentions are to ruin her pretty little facade and reveal the woman she keeps locked in her closet.
Grey, her eyes are grey.
