I watched the wet drops slide down the window from all directions. They sauntered down the pane until their momentum ended suddenly, disappearing into the air each time. Every splash formed a line down the side before finishing its masterpiece, all different from one another.

Finally, she walked through the door and rejuvenated my eyes. Her hand clutched her purse, gripping the leather handle and pulling it tight to her body. Comforting her as she stroked its ego.

Strolling to a table, she placed the bag down, her red fingernails glistening their newness just enough to be noticeable. A second later, her hand dug into the bag and emerged with a book in hand. Her Tuesday book this month. Last week, she had read 93 pages. About half finished by now, with the most stimulating pages remaining.

Steam from her coffee rose above toward her chin, dancing in front of her as she began to sink into the role. As her eyes moved left to right, everything disappeared. The old woman two seats down vanished. The self-important students across the way ceased to exist. The long-lost reminiscing friends only a step away were muted.

The pages turn briskly, her eyes soaking up the words at a breathless pace. The best part is seeing that concentration, an attention to detail and steadfastness never surpassed in previous cases. Special qualities like that are always appealing, especially when the usual characters are unable to appreciate and understand them. Commitment never grows old.

At 9:30 she rises from her chair. 15 minutes late this time. With each item, she pauses before placing it back into her bag, almost inspecting it before returning them to their temporary home. Wait one minute, then turn and head for the door. Work awaits.

Once outside, she weaves her way across to the towering building, where her high-rise office surely anticipates her arrival. She finally disappears from sight, the final flash of flowing blonde locks a distant memory.

Lunch is only a couple hours away.