Watching Her Walk

He stepped back into the shadows when he saw her across the grass.  He stood in solitude watching her walk.  She seemed so different than the girl he thought he knew.  Her eyes darted up from the ground for the briefest of seconds before snapping back down.  She seemed to be trying to shrink as she moved.  She wrung the raincoat in her hands nervously. 
That was it, she was nervous.  She wrapped the grey material up only to unravel it and fold it up again.  She switched if from her left arm to her right and back again.  He had never seen her this way, so fidgety and timid.  He sighed as she passed him still several yards away, turning to follow her with his eyes. 
Who was this girl?  What happened to her?  What happened to his girl?  He wasn't used to this side of her.  To seeing her look fragile, like an anxious baby deer.  He was accustomed to her rough edges, not her softness.  He was used to a sharp tongue and bright, questioning eyes, not silence and wide eyed fear.  Something in the way she moved intrigued him, so much so that he nearly called out to her.  But indecision took it's toll.  He hesitated one moment too long, wondering if she would smile at seeing him or weather her lips would turn down.  He wouldn't want that.  No, he wouldn't want that at all.  She fell out of his view but stayed at the forefront of his mind.  Why were the two girls so different?  Which one was authentic?  Where had her sass and sarcasm been just then?  And where was her doe-eyed innocence when he was around her?