Lonely
One and Only.
The weather had quickly turned from a gentle sprinkle to a flurry of heavy raindrops and deafening gales of wind. The looks of her fellow restaurant-goers were cold and deploring. Perhaps they too had noticed the less than desirable shift in the climate outside. Or perhaps they were all feeling the weight of the public disaster earlier in the week. Whatever the case, it seemed that the world had turned its back on her, if only for this one day.
In anticipation of ordering, she whips out a notepad from her dainty purse and scribbles down anything that sounds even remotely appetizing at the moment (which wasn’t much), setting the completed list carefully on the edge of the small booth’s table. Certainly it was meant to be occupied by another person, yet here she sat, a singular person in a space that was meant for two. The waiter approaches the young woman and gives a customary greeting in the tone that only waiters have been taught to do. She points to the note paper, her eyes silently telling him all that he needs to know, and he hurries away with her order in hand.
She busies herself by coloring and working at the puzzles in the flimsy kid’s activity book. This she had secured while on the short path to her seat, and though she had not been quite sure why the booklet had piqued her interest, it served as a welcome distraction to her chaotic and unpredictable mind. As her hand guides a blue crayon through a maze on the paper, she silently reflects on something that many before her had pointed out: Life is quite like a maze. Everyone experiences twists and turns, progress and regress, but in the end we all reach the end one way or another. She encounters a dead end and sighs, back tracking to the last point of forward progression. This was just a little dead end in the grand scheme of things, wasn’t it? Everything would be fine in a couple of days. Or weeks.
As if on cue, the decadent aromas and appearance of her food were thrust upon her. She gives a curt nod to the waiter before delving into the pleasures of gluttony, putting behind any and all emotions that she might have been feeling just moments before.
In anticipation of ordering, she whips out a notepad from her dainty purse and scribbles down anything that sounds even remotely appetizing at the moment (which wasn’t much), setting the completed list carefully on the edge of the small booth’s table. Certainly it was meant to be occupied by another person, yet here she sat, a singular person in a space that was meant for two. The waiter approaches the young woman and gives a customary greeting in the tone that only waiters have been taught to do. She points to the note paper, her eyes silently telling him all that he needs to know, and he hurries away with her order in hand.
She busies herself by coloring and working at the puzzles in the flimsy kid’s activity book. This she had secured while on the short path to her seat, and though she had not been quite sure why the booklet had piqued her interest, it served as a welcome distraction to her chaotic and unpredictable mind. As her hand guides a blue crayon through a maze on the paper, she silently reflects on something that many before her had pointed out: Life is quite like a maze. Everyone experiences twists and turns, progress and regress, but in the end we all reach the end one way or another. She encounters a dead end and sighs, back tracking to the last point of forward progression. This was just a little dead end in the grand scheme of things, wasn’t it? Everything would be fine in a couple of days. Or weeks.
As if on cue, the decadent aromas and appearance of her food were thrust upon her. She gives a curt nod to the waiter before delving into the pleasures of gluttony, putting behind any and all emotions that she might have been feeling just moments before.