He stayed writing for another hour or so, focusing down into the subject, writing well, with more ideas than he could possibly capture, his clumsy fingers punching the keys, his mind light as thread. A sense of youthful renewal, a fillip to the senses. Occasionally he was aware of her flitting on some errand, a ripple of shoulder and backbone. Perfect posture, a dance of life. When he packed up his laptop she was back behind her counter, serving a brace of customers. Surely each of them was struck by her grace and beauty, struck by longing or a need to worship - or was that just his peculiar weakness?
Waiting for her to be free, he began writing his web address, then crossed it out and wrote 'Just google this.... it will come up first on the list,' and he wrote his name, Daniel. A few minutes later, he handed it to her. 'Thank you,' she said, and he detected a new air of confidence or decision. 'I'm finishing up here shortly, if you'd like to wait.'
'Sure'.
'We could go somewhere, and talk'.
'Okay, I'll wait for you. I always have a book to read.'
'I've noticed,' she smiled.
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