Seeing him.

The man around the woman. The blanket around them both.

The San Francisco sun beating down still, but the wind getting stronger

She turns over and rolls out from under the blanket. He didn’t want her to.

He’s propped up on his knees, resting on his elbows checking his phone.

She’s sitting up, looking away.

There’s a pull between them. But there look, also a push.

She talks and slowly leans in. And then he leans forward as she slowly leans away.

He rubs her back, a motion so comfortable and natural for them that she barely notices.

The push, the pull. The yes and the no. The attraction and reaction.

Then she gets up leaving him under the blanket alone.

She leans down one more time to say one last thing.

She puts her boots on, she leaves.

He’s a man wrapped in a blanket on the grass under the sun, warm against the wind.