Keep Clear, it's Valentine's Day.

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Strangers, waiting at the tram stop, each going their own way.

He notices her.

Sitting on the bench, he slides his bum inch by inch towards her.

Each inch closer with no adverse reaction from her.

Each inch, a step closer to a different outcome from yet another bland and lonely Valentine's Day.

Finally, only inches away from each other, they both sat in silence, sharing an unspoken moment of breathless anticipation.

He musters the strength and lifts his hand and reaches over and places his hand over hers.

He savours the moment.

The photographer with his photographic eye not too far away captures the decisive moment.

The shutter clicks, and the spirit of Valentine's Day is encapsulated in one photograph.

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Then of course she wakes up from her mid-afternoon doze with a fright and slaps him across the face.

They both sit, frozen, this time in stunned silence.

'Keep Clear' is the unspoken but painful message.

He sullenly slides his bum back to the other side of the bench, foot by lengthy foot this time.

Once again Lady Luck proves she is a harsh mistress of chance and failure. St Valentine, no better.

14 February 2012.
 
I notice that they're sitting slightly apart. They're both wearing sunglasses.

She has a fine mop of hair on her cranium. He seems to have more, on an antipodal location to the cranium.

Her body language is closed and stiff. His body langauge seems to be open and loose, and possibly even resigned. His bag hangs forgotten from his shoulder.

Peeking just around her right shoulder appears to be a suggestion of a tattoo.
 
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