two paragraphs of nothing.

so, she looked up. was it just a draft sneaking in through the door, when opened by someone, or a shiver inside her establishing its presence? she wrung her hand and scanned across the cafe. perhaps he had sneaked in along with the cold air? she sighed at her own silliness. did she actually expect to see him! but then, if not, what was she doing there. ever so often, it feels like her mind has a mind of its own. takes her places she shouldn't go, makes her say things she never thought of saying. perhaps, the mind is recursive, eh? a mind inside a mind inside a mind ....

another cold draft. perhaps, she should pull on her jersey, lying on the table? but then, she wouldn't look as flattering as she does now, with her bare-shoulders and all. the pains for the pleasures. if he is indeed coming, why can't he be on time, she muttered. maybe, she should just go? how fruitful would this meeting be anyway? it wouldn't change a thing. hope is quite a camouflaged drug. brought her all the way here without consent and is not letting her leave either. she bent forward and buried her face in her sweater. and realised that she was wearing her spectacles instead of the contact-lenses. "damn!", she screamed silently. her useless nervousness while leaving for the cafe had made her forget about such a vital thing. there is no point of the waiting now, she concluded. with her frightful appearance, it might even be detrimental. so, in a rush, she got up, clutched her sweater and darted towards the exit. she pushed open the door and held it long enough to let in enough wind to alert everyone of her indecision and then left. the door had no respite though. it had barely closed that it was pulled open by him.