Beauty Does Not Forget

He walked like a varón, stalking the edges of the milonga like a cat, ignoring Amadeo Mandarino's plaintive Al verla pasar. He pretended not to know her as he walked by, but she did not look down. She did not ignore his arrogance. A smile curved one side of her mouth as her black eyes followed his movement.
His shoes were blue, and he wore a fedora like Carlos Gardel had done.
She had once been the most beautiful woman at the milonga; he had once been her partner.
Now he touches his hat as he looks across the room at the lithe blonde on a high stool. She fingers her glass, and devastation happens in an instant. The blonde is the one who turns away.
And she who was ignored laughs to herself and knows she is still beautiful.