She waits on the steps of his building, br sitting daintily, so not to crease her dress br checking and rechecking her appearance br in a silver-plated compact mirror br (a present from him, bought on one of many trips) br br She avoids eye contact with passers-by br not wanting them to think that she's 'that sort of woman' br br 'I'll be down in a minute' he said to her - some time ago br br She looks up at his window seven stories up where the light br is still blazing.... a beacon against the sky, br now dark, br the sky casting a shadow over her eager hopes and br naive disposition br br Finally, she takes her leave, br uncertain, with little steps br looking up, br then looking down.... br still avoiding eye-contact with passers-by br feeling exactly like 'that sort of woman'.