This morning, my nurse and I went to the market. Near the butcher, a handsome youth, stops by the stalls before us. He is blessed with a strong brow, and chiseled nose. A royal goatee and beard shadows his chin. His eyes are set back and soft as they stare off, captivated by something unseen.
He wears a simple doublet, hose and half-length cape of dark colors. The clothing is worn, the signs of a youngest son out to find his fortune. I linger nearby, willing as my heart waits, on a ledge, ready to jump, if his gaze should turn my way.