she puts her fingers
to the glass
tip against tip
they're always cool
and not matter how long
they remain touching
neither warms


she raises her eyes
to meet the pair before her
brown locked to brown
with the same autumn composure
and she wonders when it happened
that even she can hardly see the sorrow
burning beneath the surface


she smiles slightly
thinking how ironic
she can almost fool even herself
as her hand drops to her side
fingers as cool as before

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