To an outsider, it might have appeared as though we were mimicking each other's movements. Perhaps it even seemed as though a mirror had been magically raised upwards alongside my body to reflect my motions and thoughts and buying habits.
She nodded her head yes and lied when I asked her if she was alright. Her brown eyes blinked a song in perfect time to keep from letting loose tears. My lovely friend was sad.
In the conference room, where I have lunch each day with two of my favorite people in the world (I am very lucky), I found myself tapping my fingers in constant rhythm against the long, veneered table. Why was I doing this?