Life In A Waiting Area

They had come to get their dependable old car serviced.  They sat in the waiting area much the way they sat around the house...each engrossed in their own pursuits and thoughts.  He, reading the daily paper and for her, a comically oversized (for her, anyways) book.  The only interaction was when something caught his interest in the paper and he would lean over and point it out to her.  She would lean to him, making the appropriate comment, and then go back to her book.


They never looked up, so they never noticed me standing at the edge of the waiting area sketching the minimal beauty that was their relationship built by a lifetime together.