Why is she alone?
Maybe waiting for a friend, a lover?
So delicate, understated charm.
What if I cleared my throat, maybe
she would look around. Or, what if I
knocked my water glass over. She might
turn, full face of beauty.
What if...
What if I just walked over there and said
\"I think I love you.\"
She might laugh, think it was a joke,
or that I was trying to win a bet.
But what if she smiled and threw
herself into my arms.
What if she kissed me and said,
\"I love you, too.\"
Maybe.
What if...
What if we got married and moved to Portland.
Three kids, two dogs, a nice house in the country.
I could read to her every night and she
could laugh at my corny jokes.
What if she said, \"I\'ve never been this happy before\"
as we walked along the Columbia River bank
and I picked a little white wild flower and stuck it in her hair.
What if...
See, she\'s getting up. Turn my way, please.
Here. Look this way.
She moved gracefully to
the front door, paused for a heartbeat,
her left hand on the doorknob.
Uncertain about what to do?
Where to go?
Then she stepped into the night,
the little bell on the door frame sadly
announcing her leaving.
And she was gone.
The lighted sign over the bar flickered twice.
What if...