(from In the Shadow of my Pen: A Collection of Poetry and Prose)
Unsplash Image by John Vincent Saula
In the cafe on the corner, she waits.
He is late, and now she is worried.
Will he turn up or not?
Has he become lost?
Now growing impatient, she lights a cigarette.
In another part of town, he is lying in bed next to the whore he just met.
He has no guilt or remorse on his mind.
He has stood her up a dozen times.
She always comes back.
In the cafe on the corner, she gets up from her seat and then steps out into the rain.
She does not see the car until it’s too late.
He did not attend her funeral or place flowers at her grave.
In the cafe on the corner, a new victim waits.
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