i liked her

She didn’t like me. she didn’t like anyone. but she liked her voice, when she knew i could hear her. She smiled brightly when i nodded and understood her. She scowled, she frowned, she quietly condemned. I watched the others drown in her position, her self-righteous opinions— but i saw her. She didn’t mean for glimpses of her happy to be caught by my always  curious-eyes, but I caught it, and I caught her, and I knew her and I swear to you, she is beau-ti-ful, IF you can look past the scowl, look into her wild young eyes, the accidental smiles that have created lines amongst her 70 year old laughing teeth that danced down on Manhattan street with her beau who took her out to the best clubs— loved her, asked her to marry him six weeks after meeting her… when she was just 24.

She didn’t like me, she didn’t like anyone. But i liked her, and she liked that I liked her. And I liked that I knew she liked me, even if she didn’t like me. To me that was good enough. And we smiled. Small victory between new friends.