Jack noticed a new regular sitting daily at the same table.
Always reading, her slender fingers had not escaped his notice.
She would turn pages, the glare from the sun masked by sophisticated shades.
He made sure he walked past at the same time, waiting for her to look up.
Where was she going or whom was she meeting? No-one it seemed.
He knew the waiter and her choice of refreshment was always the same.
Today he sat at the next table sketching; he’d watched her for 12 days.
He started to draw her, to sketch the dainty feet tucked beneath.
She paused in her reading and smiled across at him and his heart skipped a beat.
He smiled back and continued his work, as the waiter emerged,
“Your lunch Mr Vettriano!”