Monday, April 12, 2010

Miscommunication

It was a Sunday afternoon and as usual I was eating out at the club. I liked the routine, the friendly faces, the low price and the atmosphere, and the fact it was usually the most nutritious and healthily hearty meal of the week for me. If no-one I knew turned up for the cheap food I’d pick through the leftover Saturday supplements and catch up on the week’s literary news. I was huddled over my plate with the paper spread out in front of me when I noticed a girl looking at me from the other side of the room. I smiled, she smiled, and I went back to eating my lunch. 
Whenever I looked up from my plate she seemed to be staring straight at me. I wondered if I either had food on my face or was eating like a horse or something. This went on for about five minutes. Our eyes would catch as we both looked up and around from our plates.
Soon enough she got up and started walking straight over to my table. I noticed her blonde hair bouncing gently as she strode towards me. These full pink lips pressed together but with plenty to say. She had her hands thrust deep into the pockets of her jeans until she reached the table. I felt nervous just watching her.
“Hi,” she said smiling, brushing her hair over her ear with her middle finger.
“Hi,” I said.
“Are you finished with the salt and pepper?” she asked.

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