Luke and I sit at a table. We have moved on to wine. There is little conversation. We’ve kind of said it all.
The waitress is very kind to us, almost nervous to approach. I think she thinks we are in a fight.
“Why would two young lovers sit so quietly and sadly?”
That’s what I would think.
We are on our third glass when he goes to the washroom. She rushes over and asks if everything is okay.
Everyone around us has an entire world around them. And we often only see the obvious.
I tell her we are fine.
He is sitting with me in a diner at 4 pm, drinking wine in silence because he is a great friend.
And you are moving out of our house, young lover.
I may have another glass.