Table for One

She watched them from the little booth

Graphic borrhttp://abcnews.go.com/
Health/Wellness/tips-gain-weight/story?
id=20533639owed from

designed for two, but she was only one
that night, away from town, and home,
and any who might care what she was
eating, drinking, what she liked to talk
about, how-was-your-day, all that. And
she could see them clearly, nearly read
their lips if they'd been talking, but they
ate in silence, mostly, as if the act of
concentration on each bite had robbed
them of abilities to speak and hear. Each
bite deliberate, chewed thoroughly. It
brought to mind the force fields she had
seen in sci-fi movies as a child, clear,
unbreakable, so thick no sound could
penetrate, no thought, no love. They were
obviously a couple, but so separate a pair
she'd never seen. They never looked into
each other's eyes, or smiled, or reached
across the plexiglass of past unkindnesses
to slowly stroke the other's hand. She thought,
I'm all alone, but they are lonelier, by far.
She swallowed, savoring the texture and
the spices as they washed across her tongue
and slowly slid, appreciated fully,
down her throat. But later, as she looked
around for Julio, her server, it was the eyes
of him who sat behind the plexiglass that
locked with hers. One look, and she was stunned,
undone by all she read, by all he asked
without a word, her eyes replying simply,
"Yes."



(c) Ellen Gillette, 2015