A bus ticket falls out of her bag onto the table beside the cell phone. No monthly pass, so that means she’s an occasional user. Reading the spettacolo section of Il Manifesto. Well, at least I know what her politics are. Probably looking for a movie on Wednesday when there’s a discount. That’s her bike leaning against the wall, so she can’t be living far away. Funny, I’ve never seen her here before. Wearing loose fitting jeans and a baggy sweater. There’s an Einaudi book in her bag. Pessoa. Rich matter for one so young. Must have arrived shortly after 5:00. Orders a cappuccino. Normally only tourists order cappuccino in the afternoon. How wide she opens her mouth to drink. What beautiful hands! Slender, tapering fingers. I’d say no more than 20 or 21. Far too young for me anyway. Her body is angled slightly away, so she must be aware I’ve been looking. Reading a review of the new Turkish movie playing at the Capranica. Raises her head sharply when the guys at the next table start talking about Ariel Sharon. Presses her lips together, so I gather she doesn’t like what they’re saying. So far she has smoked 1 cigarette. Very nice to the gypsy girl begging. Oh God, now she's looking at me. Asks me the time (of course, no watch). She’s waiting for friends, she tells me. My heart is pounding. But they haven’t shown up, she says. She doesn’t mind waiting. She loves this time of year. Why doesn’t she call them on her cell phone, I wonder? She strokes her chin with one beautiful hand. Smiling. Now's my chance. Say something!
    It’s quarter past five, I say.



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