She looks you in the eyes, searching, testing, rummaging
through your soul for a sign. You don't remember her. It was
so long ago that it almost seems like it wasn't even you,
like it was a dream she dreamed or a movie she saw that sunk
and absorbed into her heart like an ocean soaked in a little
yellow sponge. You enquire for the price of the jewelry in
the glass coffin under your finger, snow white sleeping
waiting for her prince.

She sees them come in, at times in pairs at times
unaccompanied, day after day. It took a lot getting used to
for her, longing for the day someone invests in one of these
for her. Sometimes she would make up stories in her head,
how they met, what their families think, how long they will
last. She looks you in the eyes and a story fosters in her
head. Your girl is perfect- she knows. Your family loves
her- she concludes. You will stay together for the rest of
your lives.

"Miss?" you ask. She doesn't respond. "Are you okay?" You
don't even know it. You can't even tell. You don't
understand why the beads of saltwater trickle down on the
shiny glass counter. You pressed down the sponge. She
remembers. She looks at her reflection in the glass. She
hasn't changed that much, she figures. She sees your
reflection hovering above her. You are so handsome. The
scent that surrounds you like an aura intoxicates her,
reminds her. You are the one they always talk about, the one
that got away. You scan her waiting for answers. If you only
knew the answers.

And it's heavy, so heavy. And your choice it's so simple, so
clear. This one is her favorite. This is the one she's
avoided selling . This is the exact one that you want. "You
know what?" you smile at her unaware. She can see her
anguish reflecting in your sparkling white teeth. You love
the dentist. Maybe your girl is a dentist. "I don't want to
know. There is no price on love right?" You reach for your
wallet. She is still silent. Your mind is elsewhere, your
mind is at home with "the dentist".

You don't know her. She always tried to teach you to love
this way. You never knew how to. "The dentist" did a better
job. You pull out the credit card, and she sees a picture of
a beautiful redhead. Her heart crumbles before you as her
shaking hands take the card from your big warm hands. You
look her in the eyes, you can't tell. She must be your
"dentist".

She scans it through and presses a few numbers robotically.
Her mind is not with you, much like your mind is not there.
Her mind is with you the way you were. You were less mature,
less charming, less wealthy, less loving, but more hers than
she could ever imagine. You are not hers today. She holds
the receipt in her hands but doesn't move. It twinkles like
a star in the case, falling falling, make a wish. You take
the receipt from her hand, brushing your soft but masculine
presence against her. You feel her trembling palm, gently,
lovingly, the way she used to hold you. You don't remember.
You sign. You take the card. You put it back next to your
"dentist".

"Thanks, I'll be back to pick it up next week, have a nice
day," you wipe a tear from her eyes. "Smile," you grin. You
are so kind, so caring, but not to her because she's her.
How could you forget? You leave, just like that, a 10
minute, "24- hour-virus". You hold the door for another man.
He comes in, and slams his hand contemplatively on the
counter. He looks at her, her pain is visible but
insignificant. She's just the saleswoman.

"Show me everything you've got."