All these faces; the whole teeming mass of american humanity passing by in a small sample group during a walk downtown. They look so unsatisfied; they look like they’re trying desperately to hide the fact that they’re hungry; they look like they’re trying to hide the fact that they are not satisfied.

That one there can’t keep her eyes of the reflection of her body in the glass; must be a new outfit she hasn’t gotten enough compliments on.

That one there looks like he’s going to crack the handle of his briefcase if he doesn’t ease off a little bit; just a bad day or is he always like that, with a vein that defined at his temple he’s probably always like that.

That one’s got her purse front and center, blocking her groin; her eyes are trying to track everyone under thirty-five, and she’s paying special attention to the minorities as she attempts to walk through the crowd without touching a soul.

Now here comes a treasure; mid- maybe late-thirties, but she wears it hard, especially around the eyes, and she’s been so indoctrinated that she can think of nothing else on this lunch-break but finding someone to silence that biological clock; she needs to get knocked up. Her eyes tighten; she’s got someone in her sights. Oh yeah there he is; looks like the same age group, same economic bracket. No ring, she might have a chance here. Twenty-feet ahead, coming right at her; her hand smoothing hair and skirt before it settles on her chin and caresses slightly, turning her head to give him something of a profile, that must be her good side; she adds a little bounce to her step, throws back her shoulders to pitch purely physical woo.

And the moment, it’s right there. Waiting for something; the sirens of fate to start screaming or destiny incarnate to descend with a fucking trumpet or some other unmistakable sign. Their eyes meet; she’s given up on the profile approach and is looking out with something approaching hope, of course he can’t help but notice her; you’d have to be dead to miss the signals pouring off that woman. Maybe that was the problem, because they pass, footsteps not faltering in the slightest until she starts to slouch a bit and slows down once he’s gone. It’s too bad; they could have added security to their misery and tossed their mingled genetics into this ridiculous stew. Or maybe they would have been happy, but neither one looks back; she doesn’t even cast her eyes sideways when she turns the corner, and the moment is over.