The Woman with the Dainty Fingers

I take out a pencil. The charcoal ones that make the most beautiful lines. I watch, carefully, as the old woman sitting next to me picks up her tea. Her hands fascinate me. The ornate ring on her finger, the lines that show the years of her life. She sets the cup down on her saucer and crosses her fingers. I begin to sketch.

I sketch one long finger after the other. Her long rose gold nails sparkle in the sunlight. Her tea cup clatters on the saucer as she sets it down again gracefully. Her left hand lightly crosses the plate of cranberry scones and carefully pickes one out of the arrangement.

She looks over at me and smiles, peeking at the drawing. “Your art is beautiful.”

“So are your hands.” I say and continue to sketch.

I finish my drawing and clear my dish. I gently place it in front of her, stepping silently away. Knowing, happily, that I’m a little more connected to someone in this world.

XXX

Romey