There was a moment's silence, where he seemed to have just ignored her question, her questioning gaze and her questioning pose, just looking at her with eyes of a hawk, as if all the things he wanted to say or ask could be done just by looking through her.
He pursed his lips and breathed out slowly before tearing his gaze away from her, over toward the magazine shelf behind him, and the book stand behind that, and the cashier behind that.
She had changed, like the world around him. Changed so much that had they walked past each other on the street he wouldn't have noticed, let alone stop her.
Then he turned to look back at her, and thought that maybe it was only her face that changed. Or maybe he was the weird one, not having changed.