I told her about my dream; the one I had with our knees knocking together in a public arena.
She told me about the conflict, I guess her husband and children. I told her about our memories. Like that time kissing in the parking garage when she told me I was the only one.
She came out to clean the windows of the cafe where I sat sipping a beer; her movements accentuated her body in such a way that I couldn’t help but thinking…