She leans over the restaurant table to hang more closely onto his words. A young woman of undeniable beauty and credible intelligence. She is obviously accustomed to attention. Her dinner companion, with his indistinguishable looks, is not. He tries not to presume upon her continued interest. Disbelieving the overt signals emanating from her body gestures and the twinkle of her eyes, he continues to rapidly talk on. Never giving her a chance to interrupt the flow of his anxiety. In the confusion of the situation, he belly is telling him one thing (shut up) and his mind another (don’t stop). He drones on in the hope that he’ll either be put out of this persisting misery, or his deepest wish for love with a beauty queen will come true.
In mid-sentence, the woman reaches over and taps his hand gently. He ceases to talk for a split second. His body registers the gesture, informs the brain of its significance, which thankfully then closes down. At last, at the end of this pause, he asks her a question about herself. Happily, she leans back into her seat and begins a long tale. One, she has perhaps told many times to men such as her date this evening. He leans forward across the table, hanging closely upon her words.