Thinkpiece: About chance and failed love

She says, “I still have to think about him a lot.” And smiles. We meet on a park bench, she with her newspaper, me with my coffee. Actually, it should only be a short walk on a Sunday morning. Instead I met this older woman. Quite by chance. An encounter that I won’t forget so soon. She looks at the empty playground. “I often come here. Actually every morning. Then she puts her newspaper aside. Her fingers are tender despite the many wrinkles, her eyes shine as she begins to speak. Despite her age, she has not lost her zest for life.

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