! Love's Young...

They were young lovers, and seated at the table in the window; where in Paris they'd be watching the passers-by watching them... but no. He was silent, unyielding; but uncomfortable; she with her head buried in his shoulder, and pale as a damsel in some stress. I thought at first, they've had a long night and she tired first... but no. They looked at me as I took the table across from them as if I were a threat to their lovers' bubble of unhappiness not quite fully demonstrated... Their order came. He'd ordered a huge steak platter each; and with his male priorities, tucked in with vigour eating with his elbows which made it difficult for her to maintain her body code so leant her head behind his shoulder blade uncomfortably and left her meal untouched; he undaunted; one sensed a sympathy held sternly by a sense of moral support; it was not unbecoming to another male... but she was getting nowhere and his was a large and satisfying steak. Finally, she pushed her plate away. I must say, she played the lovers' code just right; not overdone, not underdone, just medium please. Minutes later he went off to the Gents. And then she gave the game away. Sat up, mind clear, looked out the window and very, very nearly did all those feminine things done at such a time. O lady, lady, in thy orisons be all thy sins remembered. But they left together; as if with a common purpose.