I walked next to
her
through the door
and down
the long hallway
that led
to the pub her
and I
frequented.
Next to the entrance
was a man in
a suit shuffling a
deck of bicycle
playing cards
behind an old, worn,
wooden stand with
the words “Magic”
inked in what
must have once been
bright stylized red
lettering long
since faded.
A small crowd, maybe
half
a dozen people,
were standing in
front of him
watching.
She stopped to
see upon hearing
their collective small
gasp of
incredulity, a
sweeping
murmur of
disbelief and awe.
He put the cards
beneath the stand
and pulled out
two glasses. Empty,
they stood there
in silence as
she, I, and the crowd waited.
He picked up one
glass and poured
its nothing
into the other, which
slowly filled
with wine as he did.
He then took the
now full glass and
poured its wine
back into the empty
first. And again both
glasses were empty.
glasses were empty.
The crowd clapped
as she and I
stood at the back
in silence.
She continued to the bar
and sat down. So did I.
Next to each other like
Next to each other like
two glasses.
