Looking down on Trafalgar Square, you might well notice the throngs of tourists posing with Admiral Nelson as a backdrop, or children here and there chasing the numerous pigeons. Amidst the bustle, you might not catch a glimpse of the young man sitting on a dirty ledge on the far side, looking out at the crowds but not really seeing them. You might easily miss the young woman talking on her mobile phone and skirting the edges. She seemed determined to avoid notice, but when she walked near the young man and laughed aloud at something her caller said, his head snapped around.
Standing up abruptly, but not moving, the young man called out, “Karen, is that you?”
Karen, for it was her, stopped in her tracks, and turned halfway around before catching sight of the young man. “Oh, shit,” she said, “I just saw… Can’t explain, I’ll call later.” She dropped the phone in her purse, but didn’t move, her body tensing as if to run, but leaning toward the young man as well. After a moment, she called out in a very soft voice, “Dennis?”
The young man turned toward her, and he stepped closer. “I knew it must be. I recognized your laugh, simply the most beautiful sound out here.”
Karen blushed, and turned her face away. Then, squaring her shoulders, she turned back toward him. “How did you find me?”
Dennis frowned. “It wasn’t easy. I didn’t know your full name, but you said you worked in the National Gallery, so I…” His voice trailed off.
“You’ve been waiting out here for me?” Karen said, her voice cracking slightly with surprise.