Solemn Gray
Staring solemnly into the gray, I watch the invisible rope tighten around the neck of the woman in the white dress.
I take a sip of coffee and look to my right to disguise my watching, and then to my left, to convey my search for something that caught my attention.
My attention was solely on the woman who appeared to be alone, though she was not the only person at the table. Breakfast was a damn good meal, especially at one of these local cafes that had average food but a reputation that seemed to somehow compliment whatever it was you were eating. Instant coffee was a bitch, and unfortunately, I can tell that is what I am drinking, but never mind that.
The woman who looks as if she is dying perhaps appears normal to her peers, and as I look toward the table to set my coffee down, I hear her laugh. A sound that is unimaginably sad, given that the sound is a cry for help, a blind reach into the void to see who or what might catch her before she falls.
I knew nothing of her, her name, her occupation, or her financial situation, but anyone who wears a white dress to breakfast before nine in the morning is preoccupied with something others can't see.