My Return

I sat at a window table, alone, playing with my food. I was struggling to use my chopsticks. I've never been good with chopsticks, but I refuse to eat Chinese food without them. "It's part of the dining experience," I recall a friend telling me. Little Ollies was alive with noises, conversations, and the sound of clanking china. The floor to ceiling windows gave a Panoramic view to the intersection of Clayton and First, the corner that my favorite Chinese restaurant sat on. I noticed that the windows were fogging slightly around the edges, indicative of the dropping temperatures outside. It always gets so cold after the sun goes down. I found my gaze lost in the gently falling snow flakes that were visible as they floated into the light of the street lamp. A lass in a black skirt and black thigh high boots caught my attention as she walked the sidewalk adjacent to the restaurant's window towards the intersection with a hurried pace. We were only separated by the window's glass as she walked by. She carried a worn, overstuffed canvas bag with the letters, 'NPR' printed on the side, slung over her right shoulder. Under her left arm was a book that was pressed tightly between her body and her arm. She was struggling while putting on her red gloves. Her mind must have been concentrating on the gloves and not her path. She slipped on a patch of ice and fell to the ground. She used her hands to catch herself, simultaneously sending her book and bag flying in the air. To no avail, she landed on her butt, with her legs stretched out in front of her and her toes pointed in towards each other. Her shoulders were slumped forward with resignation. I could see her profile, but not her facial expression. She sat there, tragically beautiful, illuminated by the street lamp. The snow landed gently on her jet black hair. After what seemed like a minute, she looked in my direction and instantly locked my gaze. I deliberately mouthed, "Do you need help," giving her an awkward wave. She smiled slightly with kindness and embarrassment, shook her head no, picked up her sprawled belongings and got up. She wiped the moisture from the book cover with her red-gloved hands. She stood up straight and proud. Studied the ground and took her first, careful step. She crossed the street with a confident jog and continued on her hurried way.