Empty

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.

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

two glasses.