It was a bright day; he stood pensive.
He knew she would come.
He waited, sipping soda. Vanilla pod stiletto-slit like a dame’s dress,
Perfumed caramel syrup drizzled slow in sparkling seltzer.
A scoop of ice cream floats in the glass.
He waits, mood lightened. Sophie will come.
She was late. Very late.
She entered the room at nine a.m. on a Friday;
A Friday kind of gal. She was tall, eyes closed.
Her name was Sofie Rose, and he knew she would be a handful.
She came for the chocolate.