Watching by the Window

He watches her from a distance. She isn't exactly graceful. Her head buried in a small cap and a warm muffler around the neck. It's the same jacket which comes out every year as winter approaches. She trots, doesn't walk and sometimes trips. He sips his coffee soundlessly. They're standing inside the tiny shop, she rushes in takes off her cap and down tumble nothing. The hair is all gone. Just a pixie remains. He starts but doesn't comment. She catches the expression but doesn't comment either.