Chapter Text
“What would you like with that sir?”
The waiter softly tapped the tip of his pencil against the paper. He waited for the mumbling response the man always gave. He titled the pencil down writing, as he stole a few glances at the rough man.
Despite his figure he seemed more restless each time he walked in the dinner. More restless than the truck drivers that he had seen in his employment here. Those men always came in gently counting their cash, and only cash. A card would make them lose track of the money that they intended to bring back home with flowers for their partner, and chocolates for their kids.
Their fingers swiftly calculating, and tilting the tip of the bill before pushing it aside for the meal. They would always softly mumble knowing how much they spent before ordering whatever meal came with a cup of coffee. Any small detail of the weather that could make it seemingly change, and being sent on a terrible route that was planned. The man who was in front of him however didn't carry any troubles. He never talked about work, or any family life. The one thing consistent of him was a lady voice that he would hear on the different phones he carried.
The man’s fingertips slightly caved underneath his palm when the waiter's eyes had locked with someone else. One of the regulars was leaving to go pick up their dog from the vet. It gave his brain a breather from correcting him from staring too much at the man. His hands tapped the pencil in the empty space he was waiting to fill. The man cleared his throat before giving a glance at the waiter.
“Some extra eggs. That's all.”
The waiter nodded softly, as he scribbled it on the receipt then smiled. He walked away before taking another order from a newly seated customer. The man pulled the repeated folded napkin that he had kept hidden gently unraveling it, as he pulled it up to his palm. He was scared it would roll onto the floor, and the stars would align in her favor. It would be proof that he didn't deserve to keep it. The soft unfolding led to his finger tracing about the napkin then the object hidden within. His palm began to close with the item, as the man turned his head to a woman calling his name.
The item inside that was waiting to be shown before being shoved in the pocket of his jean jacket. She let out a frustrated sigh pushing up the bag on her shoulder, as she made her way to him. Most of the customers eyes glanced at them both before pulling their heads down. The cable hadn't been working that day even if it made no noise. It was something that could fill that untapped desire that filled their eyes when they heard her angered voice.
“Is this now where you're hiding?”
Her tone was more amused than bitter. She waited for a response that she knew was never going to come, so she settled. A marriage dispute people had assumed, and the dinner had seen plenty of those kinds. Her hair kept parts of her face a mystery to be filled by each perspective that the customer held. They could easily imagine her, as the women they see on the street. The women that would have their arm wrapped around a man with a ring, and a lost ring that they were going to find when asked. It could be women that they had cheated on, or wished they had to leave.
Her face could have been replaced with their own wanting to make a statement to be heard, and solve the issues their marriage brought on. Her face could have easily distorted to fit the empty reality that they were forced into. Few of them didn't care enough. They had their own troubles to face rather then filling their plate with others people issues. They had to get home, had a job to get, or finish.
The waiter's eyes followed along before moving to an elder couple who wanted another fill of hot coffee. She didn't look angry, as if anger was never meant to be held in her. However the man knew that the promise given to her was cracking. Her hand calmed a twitch that would have tensed her wrist. Her voice became another factor in the distortion. It could have been worn down by the experiences that her assumed marriage, or affair brought on.
That heavy bag on her shoulder drifted harshly down on her arm. With the key chains that jumped at the action, yet still sung. They grown used to been been bashed around, and had hit the steel frame on the glass door of the dinner. The bag plopped down on the booth before she pushed it aside, and took a seat. Her eyes met with him, and he looked away at the busy traffic that the rain provided from afar.
He still refused to meet her eyes, as she began to talk.