Being Fooled - Linda Kunnath

When she looked at him she saw the same soft brown eyes and thoughtful expression of the man she still loved but whose love was not to be. He had a forward motion about him – the way he confidently moved her across the dance floor and held her hand and pulled the chair open for her, caringly, lovingly almost already – so soon, she thought, but still he seemed like the one she had known before. Others watched when they danced. Others who knew him. Knew his energy – the way he moved into and out of the lives of so many women. Their eyes were fixed and their mouths thin and expressionless when they watched him solicitously laugh at her small, simple jokes and as they watched him gently lift her wrap from the chair and drape it around her shoulders and then enfold it snuggly, like a parent does around a cold and sleeping child. They knew more than she did and she knew only what she wanted to see. Her condition perfect, for being fooled.