The Watcher

I feel eyes watching me before I notice the woman across the room. I try not to stare, but she does not seem to mind. We are in the library, the only two here. Her caramel eyes are pensive, wary. She is hypervigilant, unhurried, unpressured. I smile but she does not reciprocate. I think of her as the watcher wondering what has caused her to develop and hone this kind of untrusting awareness.