By Nora
Peter studied the woman who had caught his eye as he took his seat on the train. She was facing him on the opposite side of the carriage, three seats ahead on the aisle seat, beside a carriage door. Deep auburn hair and lively green eyes. She was an exotic bird among sparrows. Over her brown trousers and cream blouse, she was wearing a beige jacket from Morgan. His sister had bought one of them once, and she hadn’t had much change from five hundred euro. This lady obviously had money as well as good taste. He tried to put an age on her. Her skin and overall image was youthful, but there was a maturity around the eyes and mouth that led him to put her in her late thirties or early forties. She was just his type, in fact. He smiled briefly, then broke eye contact before the situation became obvious or embarrassing. She noticed his gaze and gave a half smile in return, nothing obvious, just a hint of an invitation, or so it seemed to him. He wondered idly what she would be like to date. She had a regal, ladylike sort of face, intelligence and warmth shining out of those lovely eyes. She was a complete contrast to Melissa, who always scowled and found fault with everyone, including himself. At restaurants, she was always the one in the group sending the dish back to the chef because the beef was too cold, the vegetables overcooked. Couldn’t she just eat the bloody thing and say nothing? Did it really matter all that much? Was her palate so refined that anything less than perfection was that unpalatable to her? He sighed and put her out of his mind; he had more important things to think about just now.
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