


Passing Strangers

by Roofran411



Category: Zen
Genre: Hurt-Comfort
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-03-29
Updated: 2014-03-29
Packaged: 2014-06-05 13:11:16
Rating: T
Chapters: 1
Words: 393
Publisher: www.fanfiction.net
Story URL: https://www.fanfiction.net/s/10226728/1/
Author URL: https://www.fanfiction.net/u/2295417/Roofran411
Summary: Mara, leaving a cafe, has a distinct feeling of Deja Vu.





	Passing Strangers

PASSING STRANGERS

I had come out of my lawyer's office feeling in desperate need of a shot of coffee.

Black and strong, maybe laced with something stronger.

I had signed the final papers of my divorce.

Decree Absolute.

Signed.

Complete .

Finito!

I should have been dashing to meet my boyfriend to post the banns for our wedding but my caffeine levels had a definite priority.

Now, I gathered my bag,sunglasses and _cellulare_ together, and threaded my way through the pavement tables and turned onto the street.

As I stepped out of the shade of the café's canopy, the bright afternoon sunshine blinded me for a moment. I blinked and had an overwhelming sense of_ déjà vu_.

I stopped in the middle of the pavement and a man behind me bumped into me.

"_Scusi_."

"Stupid cow. " he muttered back.

I ignored him and ran my eyes back over the street looking, searching it again.

I shrugged.

Whatever it was, it had gone.

No, there.

A man had come out of a bar opposite and was standing on the edge of the kerb waiting for a gap in the traffic.

A fag already in his mouth, he flicked his lighter and took a long drag.

_Déjà vu!_

How often had I seen him do that.

That long first pull on the cigarette; I could almost smell the Nationali.

That was what I had recognised. That, and his height, his black hair desperately trying to be allowed to curl, his long thighs.

He took the cigarette from his mouth, watching for a gap in the traffic to allow him to run across. As he dodged through the car lanes, our eyes met and he hesitated, to a blare of horns from irate drivers. He waved his hands in apology to them and got out of their way fast.

My stomach did that old elevator drop.

Lio.

I always called him that. In our bed, my hands in his hair, his mouth on mine.

Lio!

How often had I whispered it.

When things were good.

And our marriage was still sweet.

I slid on my sunglasses to hide the sudden sting in my eyes.

He reached the kerb, ten metres away from me.

Aurelio.

Hesitating once more, he raised his hand briefly.

I nodded slightly.

And we turned and went our different ways.

._.


End file.
