She walked in. I know her. I was working, so I didn't get a chance to say hello, or sit and talk like I would have wanted.
She walked in. I was there, but she didn't seem to notice all that much. She wasn't paying attention, I think.
She walked in. I tried to say something to her to catch her attention, but she didn't hear me. Maybe it was because I never said anything. Maybe it was because she didn't want to talk.
She walked in. It was a moment of silent desperation, at least, that was how it seemed.
She walked in, as if looking for something. Maybe it was quiet compassion. Maybe it was comfort. She didn't find it. Maybe she couldn't find it.
She walked in, and stood for a moment, then walked a slow and heavy walk through the shelves.
She walked in, and sighed a long and heartful sigh.
She walked out.
I tried to say good bye. I don't think she heard me. I don't even know if I even said it.
Something was lost here today. I just don't know where to find it.
Peace,
Beebes