Can You Guess What I am Doing?

She bent her knees to save her back. The box was heavy but not so bulky she could not lift it. At five feet, two inches tall she could barely see over the top of it. With no man around, she had little choice but to move it herself.

The aroma from the fridge was inviting. Fresh fruit chilling in a bowl called to her, their bright colours tempted her taste buds. She ignored their invitation to feast on them, and reached for the wine bottle instead. Vitamins would do her no good tonight, the wine however, would.

He stretched, she watched him. After all these years he could still do it. He could still give her that tingle inside, when he removed his shirt. His physique had not changed since the first time they saw each other naked.

The coffee cup hit the floor. Each shattered piece found a home. She swept the floor clear, and emptied the pieces into the bin.  A nook and cranny over the other side of the room, housed one  piece of china. It would stay hidden until the light of day shone upon it again.

The dog sniffed the backside of the other. She thought how simple their lives were. Peeing, sniffing and sleeping. It about summed up the man she was about to leave. His habits of peeing and sleeping were socially acceptable, but the sniffing around was not. He could have his bimbo lifestyle, she had a book to write and a quiet place to do it.
(Not my DH and me by the way. LOL)

He reached out, grabbed the cup and slurped from it. Manners were not his forte and it irritated her. She had watched him every day for two years do the same thing. He came in, sat down, grunted out his order, slurped his drink, belched and left the money on the table. Never once had he left a tip, not one cent. She could forgive him the belching, but the non tipping when she had suffered his presence was unacceptable. The plot formed in her mind for his next coffee shop visit.

He stamped the papers without looking at her. She moved onto the next counter, where the clerk in the window checked the paper against her photograph. The woman smiled at her, and muttered incomprehensable words. The young Russian girl, smiled back. She had done it, she had been accepted into her new country. She picked up her bags and headed for the door. A voice called out, and she froze. She turned, but there was no one else there. Only I sat and saw the terror in her face. I nodded towards the door and smiled. She nodded back and left. Another immigrant had arrive on foreign soil.

The cigarette hung from his lips. His teeth were stained and chipped. I was repulsed as he leered at me. It was time to leave.

So, what do you think I am doing?