Flawless

She nodded while listening; the apology was flawless, the delivery perfection (breathe, project, pause). In no way could she have hoped for more or better; it was exactly right, save for the knowledge that it was a manipulation. Point made (fork down), head low (a shuddering sigh conveys angst), the eyes slightly moist (no emotion spared to stick the landing), and shoulders slumping forward (show the burden of worry, anticipate joy). She raised her head and smiled. “Oh, my dear,” she started (hand on heart). “Bravo.” A catch in the breath; it was appropriate. She took a sip of champagne and met the gaze. “I am deeply touched. I never doubted that we had enough passion to make something magical - the talent to go the distance.” She took a deep breath (careful, don’t lean back prematurely). “But your talent for apathy is greater than your capacity for love. It’s been easy to forget about me for this long, so … keep forgetting. Don’t tax yourself; simply let it go. I’ll do the same.” She rose from the table, grateful for enough poise and calm to nab her coat and handbag in a single motion. Her only regret, moving onto the sidewalk outside, was that she had lacked the ability to say it in French.