The Delicate Waltz
He was eating fish and chips, drinking an Irn Bru. She, just chips, and her Starbucks coffee. One noticed the other (who first? don't know) and then they steadilly ignored one another. Or they pretended to. She flicked her hair, delicately searched for each chip with her fork, held a glittering conversation in Mandarin with her friend who walked through. He read his book, leaning back in his chair to look calm and relaxed, uttering the occasional little grunt or laugh to show what a sophisticate he was.
They took careful note as each one left. He walked out, and took his time lighting a cigarette, just to walk by the window looking slightly cooler. She glanced at him as he left, giving her hair one last toss.
Half a block a way, he had the sudden urge to vomit, he thought. He thought it was the cigarette (ever swallow a drag instead of inhaling it?), but then he realised it was the fried food and carbonated sugar water. Letting out a series of repressed belches, he couldn't help but laugh at himself, and at how hard we try.
They took careful note as each one left. He walked out, and took his time lighting a cigarette, just to walk by the window looking slightly cooler. She glanced at him as he left, giving her hair one last toss.
Half a block a way, he had the sudden urge to vomit, he thought. He thought it was the cigarette (ever swallow a drag instead of inhaling it?), but then he realised it was the fried food and carbonated sugar water. Letting out a series of repressed belches, he couldn't help but laugh at himself, and at how hard we try.