One of those shiny days

It’s not – its overcast and very cold, but nonetheless is one of those shiny days where everyone looks beautiful. In the café typing work and listening to the waitress trying to communicate with the Japanese customer, I want to jump in, rescue him, smile and explain. I want to smile at him and wish him a lovely stay – he is vulnerable in his lack of language, so politely frustrated, slightly pained, a little self conscious. I want to bundle him up and pat him.

At the train station there is a woman, solid around the middle in a dependable, mystery of the world wrapped in her flesh kind of way, with tiny delicate hands and a peaceful beautiful gypsy face. She is patiently folding baby clothes while the baggy eyed thin lipped man she is with talks on and on. She smiles softly, beatifically, like a Madonna without child. She takes off tags and smoothly tucks the torn half into her pocket. She loves whoever she has bought these clothes for. She holds the gift wrapping paper out for him to appraise after she has folded all the clothes and carefully put them back in the plastic bag. He takes a moment to stop talking and is anyway rendered speechless by this blue bear print paper – what is he honestly meant to say? he wonders – it is written all over his face. Pause ended he resumes. They both get up for the train, her brown hair waist long and trailing at the ends, it’s all I can do to not follow her, drifting as if in a current.