She walked in precisely at eight. I felt the whirring of gears, heard the chime of a bell. For an hour now I have been trying to puzzle out what makes her tick. I need more time to read her shuttered face.
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Christine Hanolsy 
That is nice little piece
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Hey, long time no speak/comment/read! Your words remain as precise as ever.
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I can’t help weaving the book I’m reading (The Bone Clocks by David Mitchell) into your entry because they both compare people to clocks. He writes about souls recognizing each other despite housing different bodies. I feel like that’s what’s going on here: the narrator recognized something in the woman that walked in at 8 exactly.
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On the nose! (It’s a vague Jade Dragon regerence, not that it would be apoarent to anyone but Rowan.)
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Perhaps one of the most difficult mysteries to pry into and unravel – the individual.
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I felt the whirring of gears, heard the chime of a bell.
Beautiful way of showing the emotional response.
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I love the story in this, Christine. It’s a complete scene – I picture a busy bar with one person studying the other – even though there’s no explicit setting.
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Love seems to have shuttered ‘his’ eyes. Christine, you did it again!
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Sounds like terminal infatuation to me! 🙂 Nice write.
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