she lifts her spectacles slightly.
"it's the sun," she says, feeling foolish: "it's the sun, y'know, and the wind. this always happens."
she stumbles a smile, and fumbles for some softness to smoothe the unbidden bits of sadness out of sight.
her companion, aware of her true story, nods, and they sip, under the espaliered
lindens, in the brightness, and the breeze.