On my way to work this morning

The Commodore slowed, as the line of cars concertinaed at the red light, tensing, ready to spring forward at the first hint of green. The passenger door opened and he alighted, picking his way through the waiting vehicles, across the road, eyes only for the footpath. She watched him from the driver’s seat, never taking her gaze from his back, waiting for the chance to wave a final farewell should he favour her with a backward glance, hoping for one more glimpse, a last chance to meet his eye.