Their eyes met and hands soon held: it was as simple as that. Conversation wove: politics bumped, literature surprised, movies agreed, climate change was skipped, legalising drugs encircled, Paris favoured. His smile was gorgeous, her sense of humour outrageous; she consulted, he wrote; she was successful, he was trying; he cooked, she didn’t; in the detail, both were small black americano. Time stood still: iphones were forgotten, waiters held back, worries melted and body language softened.
Their walk along across a rain-cooled plaza was quiet, the first time in some six hours. Both considered where next?
Perhaps it was love.