She watches them through the cafe front as they smile, as they hold their faces too close, as they kiss, and she wonders what that’s like.
Vaguely, she remembers thinking she deserved that. She remembers wanting it. She wants it now, sometimes, a stirring deep inside her that makes it all the way to the middle of her chest before she kills it.
Her phone buzzes. She checks it even though she knows. As she answers, she scoops up her things. She leaves her coffee in the trash bin on her way out.
“Yeah,” she says, “I’m on my way.”