The lady with a red purse

I saw her in the escalator. clad in a red duppatta holding on to her red purse. she wouldn't let it go. nothing else in this world mattered. there was no tomorrow. i stood beside looking down. she didn't care. all that mattered was her red purse. suddenly she clenches her fist like a sea holding on before the tide. she wouldn't let go. the sea decided to roll back. she opens her fist. it must have pained. a sudden gush of sigh left her. she was looking ahead, far off. i could not see nothing but a glass and herself. impatiently as she opened her red purse. looking out for something. frantically. fingers tossing between innumerable articles, searching for the pearl in the sand. couldn't find it for sure as she clenched her fist again. i looked down and she cared less. she started calling somebody on her phone. disconnected it even before. did she not want to talk. as she walked out i followed her besotted. wasn't i supposed to go right. i followed her left as she walked down the stairs. she suddenly stopped. thank god i didn't hit her. bemused. she opened her purse. what was she looking for i don't know. she returned empty hand even this time. she moved on. her heels sounding so high. she suddenly rushes to the door. oh man! i might just miss her. as if she bothered. the taxi stopped in no time. and i stood there alone .......