"Here is my tooth," she said, looking around nervously before taking her seat. They were outside, by the light of the full moon. Under the cork tree and within sight of the farm, in the distance, on the plain. Grasses as waters rippling in the breeze.

"Tell me your troubles," he replied evenly, weighing out the balance. In the cold light, the tooth sparkled like a hard and precious stone.

Oh, but no it wasn't quite like that. There by the window they sat across from each other and the city whirred along to itself beyond the broad glass pane. They had been meeting every week for the past month now: coffee and confession.

It was a chance encounter that first time. It was crowded and humid inside, bitterly cold outside. The snow drove in even those who didn't like coffee, the herbal tea drinkers and the alcoholics. The homeless kept near the door with their bags, ready to bolt if need be. But it was so very cold and icy outside. She waited in line before him. Got her coffee and a lucky seat by the broad window as a couple was leaving. He was behind her and she hadn't noticed at first. But there he stood with his own drink in hand, a newspaper under his arm, looking around lost for another place to sit. There wasn't one, of course. It was crowded from the snowstorm and so on. But their eyes met and he smiled and she returned it without thinking. She looked away but by then he was there,

"Um, so do you mind if I sit here?"

She blinked as if from a dream and shook her head, pulling in closer to herself, her bag in her lap, her own cup on the table between them.

"No. Here, please." He settled in.

"Thanks, it's just so crowded, I didn't see any other open tables. Some weather, huh?" He smiled and unwound a knitted scarf, crudely knitted. Kitchy and sweated out for pennies by hungry childen in asia or sincerely wrought, link by link, by a loving Significant Other - she couldn't tell. He piled it onto the table by her paper cup and their hands almost touched.

But it wasn't like that, really. She was neurotic and urban and he was.. unknown, at best.. identical at worst. There was nothing more to it than that. He was a stranger sharing a small table with her, with a smile and silence. He read his newspaper and ignored her. Seriously. And after some time he checked his watch, collected his things and left with a quick wave as though he'd see her again in class next period, or at church next sunday, or down by the bowling ally with the rest of the gang. It was a warm, small town gesture,

"Take care," he said, "Keep warm, eh?" And he left her there at that table by the broad chilling window and under all that snow.

She returned a week later, by habit really, for the snow was gone then, just dirty slush and ice everywhere. And it wasn't as crowded then, either. The same table was open. She sat and watched the grey metal concrete world revolve; she saw him approaching. It was him alright, the same easy smile. They waved through the glass and this time she wasn't watching him with her gaurded city hawk eyes. This time he passed by other empty seats to lay a soft hand on the back of the chair opposite her.

"Hello again, may I?" And he lingered like that enough to show that the question was sincere. He would leave if she wanted him to, just so simply. She nodded and managed a smile. Again the scarf puddled onto the table.

"That's nice, where did you get it? I mean it looks handmade."

"It is! I made it myself. I'm taking a class," and just like that the knife he might've been carrying evaporated along with any hint of psychopathy or disease. He was just this nice guy, a little chatty, and he spoke with his hands a lot. They talked. About nothing and not for very long before he had to leave again. He was indeed new to the neighborhood. Her neighborhood; right under her nose and down the block. This was revealed next week, at the same time and place. She said casually,

"Oh, I live near the laundromat." And he smiled his easy smile and didn't ask for more.

And so they met and talked by the window. He had a name and she told hers. He was taking night classes for various lonely middle-aged things, cooking, knitting - stuff like that. Mostly with older retirees. She told him about her job (in vague terms), her roommates, how long she'd been in the city. Both were from elsewhere beyond and that wasn't surprising. Their conversation ran its course and then he said,

"Would you want to get together sometime, I don't know, like for coffee or something?"

"We're already doing that, aren't we?"

"I hope so."

The Adjudicator asked her to speak her mind and she did so, haltingly at first, but then more readily and with a stronger voice as the night went on. She told him everything and she cried as she did so. He made no move to comfort her and this itself was steadying. She might have just dissolved into useless sobbing if he had shown a coddling, distracting compassion. Instead he waited for her to find her breath and he gently, kindly encouraged her to continue. And she told him everything, she showed him the proof on her flesh, she even offered to walk him to the very spot. He wasn't interested in that,

"It is here that we can talk and listen, nothing else matters beyond this moment and the contents of your heart. Tell me more." And so she did until the dawn glowed on the horizon and she was sure that soon the cock would crow to rouse her family. She did not want to be discovered missing. But he was firm that she should stay and say it all.

And the funny thing was that it wasn't hard to do. It wasn't hard to find her way through the conversation. The secret words which would not come at first, would not stop at last. And he often repeated these words back to her and she heard them as if for the first time. Guided in this way, by the time her mother came into the distant yard calling for her, she was done. They were done. He rose, nodded deeply to her as though before divine royalty and pulled the balancing blade from the dirt.

"I have heard enough," He concluded and she nodded in quiet, for there was truly nothing left to say. She was out of tears as well. She was released and unburdened. And she returned home.