"Time Had Not Been Kind"
My last tears fell decades before, but there she was, by the kind of Manhattan intersection that throws shade on all four corners at noon in full sun, where the shadows and her dark hair might have hidden her scars from another. Front then back, right then left, her feet followed instantly, a wordless dance as if no time at all had passed until the spin, when I turned and walked away, blinded briefly by her very first tear reflecting the crosstown light.