I am not sure what to make of her. She looks so familiar and interesting.
A white full sleeved kameez with sheer black ‘paneling’. Is it black net or black lace? Either way. Kohl lined eyes, hands on her lap, a bangle, red churidaar salwaar, drinks on the table, right in the middle of the uncool part of the coffee shop. It’s too crowded and noisy this evening. I sip my brew then go back to ignoring all but one in the herd.
She has a face that looks like it would break into a smile any moment now, but it doesn’t. It just looks bored.
It is easy to talk of a woman’s face, her imaginary smile and give an impression that she must be pretty.
She is not. She is, statistically, 51% good looking. A 5. Large eyes, full face and the chest length hair cut in ‘layered’ fashion that so many women are so into these days.
Even her company – median height, medium build, almost balding, narrow rimways, grey stubble, red T, khaki shorts, too many pockets – is unrecognizably familiar.
I don’t know whether to like them or hate them just yet. I did feel, at that moment a few paragraphs ago, that I wanted to know them better.
She catches me staring at her. I fail to avert my gaze in time. Embarrassment, sip brew, count to 5. She looks again, with her bored expression, catches me, again.
I want to know her better.
If opposites attract then a 0% goes with a 100% and a 49% with a 51% while the perfect 5s and the unique 50%s amongst us look like they might smile, at any moment now.