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101
Student @ Babcock University
THIRD GLASS
<p><br/></p><p><br/></p><p>Dim rooms are usually not my scene,</p><p>but it’s convenient tonight.</p><p>A bad week, a worse day, and a nagging mother</p><p>begging for my significant other,</p><p>enough to send me out in search of a drink.</p><p>I just want a night of peace.</p><p>So tonight, I watch.</p><p><br/></p><p>I never knew laughter could be as rich as wine</p><p>spilling across the room,</p><p>too loud in some corners,</p><p>too hollow in others.</p><p>Still, I do not engage.</p><p>I simply drift.</p><p><br/></p><p>I take my time, silently, but intentionally</p><p>glancing at faces, gestures, mannerisms.</p><p>And that’s how I notice her.</p><p><br/></p><p>She doesn’t laugh right.</p><p>It’s off beat, too careful.</p><p>Her hand trembles just before she steadies it</p><p>on the man beside her.</p><p>Oh, she’s probably just nervous.</p><p>Not a good flirt, I presume.</p><p><br/></p><p>I should keep drifting,</p><p>yet my eyes do not stray away.</p><p>I notice the small things:</p><p>a curve the dress doesn’t hide,</p><p>a smile that forgets to reach its eyes,</p><p>a nose that doesn’t quite fit the face</p><p>but somehow perfects it.</p><p><br/></p><p>Her smile is too bright,</p><p>a glass almost cracking</p><p>yet everyone around her mistakes it for charm.</p><p><br/></p><p>She keeps him close:</p><p>a hand on his arm,</p><p>her gaze flicking to the drink</p><p>as if timing the end of a prayer.</p><p><br/></p><p>The man talks.</p><p>He’s full of stories that smell of himself.</p><p>She listens.</p><p>He drinks.</p><p>She waits.</p><p><br/></p><p>I see the moment they excuse themselves.</p><p>My curious eyes suddenly give power to my feet.</p><p>I find a spot close enough to hear,</p><p>Yet decent enough for a stranger to sit.</p><p>I nurse my third glass</p><p>as she passes him another.</p><p><br/></p><p>I see the moment when his glass stops being a drink.</p><p>The color leaves the man’s cheeks, slowly, politely,</p><p>as though excusing itself from the party.</p><p><br/></p><p>Her laughter doesn’t falter.</p><p>If anything, it softens, becomes almost kind.</p><p>She leans closer, says something no one hears.</p><p>She rests her upper body on his thighs...</p><p>flirtatious yet friendly.</p><p>And with a smile,</p><p>he exhales his final words</p><p><br/></p><p>Words that no one needs to understand.</p><p><br/></p><p>Around us, the room keeps breathing, unaware </p><p>Only my third glass and I</p><p>watch as the stillness spreads.</p>
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