Triage

Triage 

Robert Kingston

these interruptions 

that start her tears

Spring rain

We had been walking in the woods before opting for the patio at the old café beneath the arches. The sea playing a soft rendition of a Chopin nocturne between the morning traffic holds some kind of draw. Our regular waitress, after setting our tray down on the table, asks if everything is okay. Placing a hand on her arm, I mention all is fine as a seal pops its head above a wave.

        Post-treatment

        A sugar lump in her tea

        Disappears