a mid-afternoon anti-climax

She had been sat on the park bench for two hours, thirty-
Two minutes and approximately fifty-one seconds when the
Man, who had been circling the park for twenty-eight minutes,
Asked her if the end of the seat was free. It could have been
The start of a Match.com advert, easily. All they needed was
Some soft guitar sounds in the background and a cameraman
To catch her smile at a suggestive angle and it would have
Been ready for television. Unfortunately the scene was only
Privy to my vision but, it certainly gave me some romantic
Hope. He asked her if she smoked. She smiled and no as he
Awkwardly slipped the pack of Mayfair smooth back in his
Pocket; although his lighter falling in between the grooves of
The bench kind of ruined the subtlety. She inadvertently
Smiled at me but, we both knew she was really smiling at him.
He told her he was trying to quit and she said, You’re not doing
A very good job of it with another smile, and something that
Looked like a wink, although it could have been a confused
Blink. She didn’t seem like the winking type. He asked her
What her name was and I didn’t catch but whatever it was,
He thought it was nice. He didn’t say so but you could tell;
The way he echoed her, the way it fell from his lips, it was
A name that his tongue liked to say. I’m Stephen, Stephen
Grey he said with a handshake, which was a mistake; one
Does not shake hands when one is cruising in a park. I
Watched them for one hour, forty-three minutes and
Twenty-nine seconds. As the sun started to fall asleep it
Soon became apparent their love bubble would soon thrust
Them back into the open world. The question all stories seem
To end with, does the boy get the girl? He took out his wallet,
Withdrew a business card, and paused for a moment to look
 At her hard. There was something beautiful about a woman
In fading sunlight. Nah, she said, You’re alright. It’s been nice
Talking though, have a wonderful night.