Telegraphy

“This song reminds me of that vampire book by Stephen King,” he said. Her eyebrows moved to a quick furrow, the left slight raised, and then smoothed, as she tilted her head to better hear. He likened her expressions to semaphore, and spent hours studying them.

“They were my sister’s favorite band in high school,” she said.

Not what he expected.

The café door slammed and drew their attention. A man came in, stamping his boots, and trying to hide a sheepish grin under his scarf.

He turned back to her, and saw her pretending to look through her phone.

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