The Next Table

She watched him from the shadow in which she was seated. Sitting at the next table, his laugh had caused her to jerk her head up from her menu. Still the dangerously handsome man who had broken her heart and trust when he was still but a boy, and she a young girl. Across from him, his pretty bride smiled and listened attentively, coyly feeding him forkfuls of chowmein, oblivious as the girl from his past looked on.

Today, successful (and single), she had moved on. But why was it pins still pierced her when she remembered watching his retreating back through her tears?

She paid for her uneaten meal and left on her high heels. Walking a little straighter than usual. Leaving her past behind. And the man, who had been unable to meet her gaze, exhaled imperceptibly and smiled a little wider, opening his mouth for another taste of chicken.