Nothing is said.
This is the precept of the game.

The suggestion is described
by gesture,
spun between the bookcase
and a chair.

I stand,
enmeshed by smiles.

His hands,
insistent proxies
of a diffident desire,
negotiate for access,

flutter briefly
when I back away.

The web collapses,
leaving only my resumé
to sustain the interview.
'Your papers, yes.

Of course. So neat!
We'll let you know.'