He saw her walk through the turnstile up at Columbus Circle on her way to catch the train…he’d seen her before…tall leggy brunette wearing white boots and leggings…like a go-go dancer of old…she had her hair up in a beehive and her lips had fresh paint on em…that was her…always wearing something sexy…provocative…like the tiger print silk scarf she wore loosely ’round her gossamer neck…the old man had seen her in other scarfs…red…black…orange…they always drew him to her tight fitting sweaters which showed off her young figure…how he wished he was younger…how he wished…

His wife was a fashionista…she had impeccable taste…she was a brunette as well…tall…just like her…with emerald eyes…green as the day is long…he used to watch her every morning in front of the mirror deciding which scarf to wear…sometimes he’d pick out two or three of them and look on in delight as she would put on a fashion show for him…walking up and down the hallway in their Chelsea apartment…she’d let him pick the one as she laid them out in front on the bed after she’d skipped down the catwalk…it was his favorite part of the day…they carried on like this for twenty-five years…till she got sick…

And he took care of her…made her soup…ran to the pharmacy for her…took his wife to appointments…he was convinced that if he loved her enough she wouldn’t die on him…he thought this was true…till one day she told him in a hushed tone…,dear…it’s time…

So now he stood alone in the subway and watched as the young lady walked through the turnstile…could it be her…could it be…she caught him looking her way…tilted her head and winked at him…blew him a kiss…he blew one back…and whispered…,I love you…the young girl smiled and said…,I love you too…, as she walked onto the train amidst the crowd…

He never saw her again…he went to Columbus Circle everyday…but…he never saw her again…Goodnight my love…