They sit together on one of the 3-seaters. They sit apart – him by the window, her by the aisle. There is a distance between them but on a closer look, I find there isn’t any *distance* at all. They may be one of those couples with the tag *made in heaven* following them regardless of how or where they sat.
He is busy feeding numbers on his notebook and still looks up at her. [How did that happen? Could she have emailed him that smile?]
His look says, “What are you smiling at?”
She just smiles in response.
He raises his brow just a bit, sort of *What?* [unnoticeable, had I not been observing closely].
She smiles and widens her eyes trying to show him something – the boy can’t grasp.
She tips her head ever so lightly and once again opens her eyes wide.
He turns to his computer.
She looks at him.
He takes the notebook closer to her, points out few numbers.
She nods in agreement.
He looks at her and then to his hand – the hand that’s facing her.
She follows his gaze. She smiles and shakes her head. It is clear gesture – NO WAY.
He smiles at her and once again looks at his hand.
She smiles and turns away.
He reaches out for her bag which is the *distance* between them.
She grabs her bag and pulls it swiftly to her lap, closing it with both her hands. She smiles, he smiles.
He becomes serious, a frown that seems to say , “What am I to do with this, then?”
She smiles, looks at him and away as if to say, “Not my problem.”
He boy shrugs.
She stretches her hand and takes the banana peel off his hand.
They smile, they laugh and they look at each other.
He takes it off her.
He looks at her, scans her, looks her in the eye.
She sees it all and looks back at him but she doesn’t quite hold his look. She puts on her bold face and then puts her arm on the back of the seat as if to say “Doesn’t bother me.”
He looks at her and then shifts his gaze to her underarm.
She frowns at him and nods to say, “I know, I know.”
She pulls her arm back, feels her underarm as if to gauge the damage of overlooking the importance of regular grooming.
A true tubestory – a *maybe not so true* interpretation!!!