He sits outside the café, the chair opposite to him vacant, waiting for her.
He orders two cappuccinos, one without sugar and two donuts, one without sprinkles.
He glances at his watch, tapping the dial twice.
Across the road, the bank building looms large. He wonders if she can see him, if she is smiling and waiting too.
He hears the waiter whisper to another customer.
“His wife was killed in the bank robbery four months back.”
A tear escapes his eyes.
“Wait for me, love,” she had said.
So he would. Like always.
(31st Oct 2014)