A fleeting look of nonchalance. I look away in a jiffy as if it didn’t matter to me, I had more important things to look at. But I looked, I stared, I stared with the yearning a wretched street kid has when he sees you relishing that extra large scoop of Baskin Robbins; the thirst that overcomes you when your boss drinks his diet-coke but you can have none because you’re small fish. I looked greedily, trying to memorise each detail, for I will never get to experience it ever. When I’m alone, I let the sad opera music play and I revisit it once again in my mind. How it was, what there was, what more it could have been and of course the beauty of it all. I let the tears fall, for as long as I am me, my fate quietly taps me on my shoulder to remind me, Beggars cannot be choosers.