Granted

Granted

She looked up at him
across and over the bottle of gin
and she realized
she’d forgotten he was a person

She had been talking on end
to him 
her friend
about her troubles with the garden
And those terrible squirrels
And he’d been nodding
brow furled
genuinely listening
until the ring of the church bell
across the square
chimed eleven
and made her suddenly aware
of a sadness in his smile

George sad ?
In the three decades she’d known him
it was a rare sight to be had
He hadn’t mentioned anything
not that evening
nor the Thursday preceding
nor any of their past weekly meetings
that she could remember

She felt as though she’d put glasses on
staring into his eyes
his features coming into focus
as she realized
it had been months since she’d remembered he was a person

He had fallen in
He’d become her Thursday at 9pm
The corner table
One bottle of gin
A reoccurring motif in her life

She squinted
and set her imagination going
And tried hard to picture
all the things he’d been doing
between Thursday evenings
His life as it existed
when she wasn’t with him
It was difficult

“Now George 
how have you been ?” 
she said
refilling his cup 
patting his arm with her hand

George’s brow unfurled
She pressed a nail into her skin
            Now listen Inès  
            he too lives