The closer she got, the clearer the man's back was.
In the pale purple, white plaid shirt, mingled with the slightly shifted sunlight out of the window, he looked so refreshing that on such a leisurely weekend, the man did not seem to be dating but rather came here alone for coffee.
He was flipping through the magazine, his fingers on the table were a little pale and clean, and his nails were round, which reminded her of Joseph's hands, which were as clean and slender as they were but sharper than the men surrounding him.
His hair was cut short, and he looked very energetic from his back.
Irish stood behind him for a while, frowning, and she was afraid to judge whether the man was Adam. The people at the next table had looked at her and seemed to wonder what she was doing.
The man seemed to notice something, stopping, and turning back.
When looking at Irish, there was a flash of light in his eyes, "Doctor Irish?"
