I wish it did not take so little to be
swept away.
Oh, if only it were not so. That this quiet clerk, this
waif, would capture my heart so quickly. Her childlike hands fluttering,
mothlike, on the counter were so alluring. I was
smitten, instantly.
Yes, it is true that I found my eyes searching for curves under her pale gauze blouse. She had soft, almost smoky brown eyes and wavy hair the color of late autumn fields. Unadorned with jewlery. it simply cascaded down her back. She was seemingly oblivious to her appearance. Although she might have been, in another time, a castle bound maiden or a dancer it was clear she saw herself as just a shopkeeper's daughter.
She had a polite retail smile for me with my receipt, but there was nothing attached to it. No undercurrent or background music.
Her attention immediately focused on the next in line and the stubborness of her register.
"They never seem to work right," she muttered to herself, more bothered than angry.
I doubt extreme anger has ever visited her up close. Would her fragile nature withstand such an internal storm?