Passed

Their eyes meet.

But then he looks away, quickens his pace and they pass.

This is the fifth time she’s made the crossing this evening. She’s been waiting at either end of the overpass until she can see a man approaching from the other side, then she walks across, passing in the middle and making eye contact.

Not a flicker so far, they’ve all just carried on past.

There was one about ten minutes ago who held her gaze, and she almost stopped.

But no.

She looks at her phone.

4.55.

She’s been at it for almost forty minutes and she’s freezing.

Another man approaches from the other side.

“Maybe him. If not, i”m going.”

What the hell kind of blind date arranges to meet on an overpass anyway?

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