Proximity

Meeting me at a busy café, she wore a cardigan over a blouse, a skirt over tights. I praised her hair, and she laughed. “They styled it at the salon,” she said, teasing her dark locks. “I was due for a trim.”

We found a corner table close to the front. Customers chatted around us, enjoying coffee and sandwiches, gossip and literary works.

We talked about the latest. She told me she was planning a trip to Spain, the trip to end all Spain trips. "I'll see everything there is," she said. "No stone unturned. Someday I will pass, knowing I did all I could."

Her voice was strained. Her sunglasses, balanced on her forehead, seemed to weigh her down.