Before the Storm
They ended up at a McDonald's built into a gas station. She had a three piece Chicken Selects sitting in front of her, he was half way through a Big Mac. They sat in silence for the most part; not really awkward, just neither of them sure what there was left to say.
"So," he asked, crumpling the paper wrapper into a ball, breaking the silence. "What happens now?"
She rolled her paper cup between her hands, eyes focused on the beads of condensation that hadn't already been smeared against her palm. "I don't know," she answers quietly. The ice shifts, a rattle that sounds too loud in the almost empty restaurant.
Setting her cup down, she looks past him out the window. There are clouds on the horizon, big and beautiful and bright white in the distance. "I want to get home before the storm comes."
Gathering all the boxes and wrappers and empty cups onto their tray, he stands to toss their garbage away. "What storm?"
She wishes she knew.
"So," he asked, crumpling the paper wrapper into a ball, breaking the silence. "What happens now?"
She rolled her paper cup between her hands, eyes focused on the beads of condensation that hadn't already been smeared against her palm. "I don't know," she answers quietly. The ice shifts, a rattle that sounds too loud in the almost empty restaurant.
Setting her cup down, she looks past him out the window. There are clouds on the horizon, big and beautiful and bright white in the distance. "I want to get home before the storm comes."
Gathering all the boxes and wrappers and empty cups onto their tray, he stands to toss their garbage away. "What storm?"
She wishes she knew.