Delphic

She crossed her legs and stared at me. A sly smile simmering at the edge of her lips.
A distant roar of a multitude of pigeons for a background to the show, it was moderately miscued. I could not look back, could not move either, the potency of it all was intoxicating my muscles. She knew with clarity both limpid and fuzzy like a nightmare at dawn, what she was and where she darted with the boldness of a hawk on prey-watch. For a Sunday afternoon and the remiss the world was in, she instead chose an impassioned take of her own, and strong as it was, delivered what it set out for. The message in an email acceptance “Your request has been granted”. Not the way with words like some people do, but a forte such unfathomable only sedateness follows. She looked back before she left and did not flinch before saying what she should have the moment she entered “You don’t deserve this” and walked out leaving the door open.