Her stance from where I was looked protective; arms crossed across her chest, legs apart, stabilizing her body. He didn't have a jacket on, which in itself was not strange, as the weather had finally reconciled with Spring. It was just in contrast to the many people walking by them on their way to work. And you could see his back tense and flex as they spoke.

She would move forward a bit, trying to go around him and I readied myself for having to step into a confrontation in case he grabbed her. I heard her voice carried on the early morning breeze, "Let me go." As I approached it became apparent I would not have to get involved.

A high-pitched voice, straining to keep to a whisper as the morning commuters passed by cracked and waned. "Why are you doing this?"

It was him. I could hear the tears in his voice, I could feel the redness of his face as he struggled to come to terms with what must have just happened. She calmly, strongly stated a fact. "It's over."

He exploded, "What's over? What are you saying is over?" His voice raised up, but not his arms, the high pitch whine replaced by a growl as she watched him, stone-faced.

She must have called him from her office when she first got in this morning, planning to get to an open area, with people around, so she wouldn't be caught, trapped. I could almost picture it, "Could you meet me down by the pier for some coffee?" she may have asked. He would have said 'sure' without thinking twice about it.

As it was, he was intent on hounding her, trying not to let her go. As he began to ask "What" again, she moved past him, "I have to get back to work."

He followed and I stopped for a moment. One or two of the other morning commuters had stopped, as well, the rest pushing past us. She had chosen the spot to break up with him well. A never-ending stream of people would ensure that he could do nothing but watch her walk away.