on the wayPosted: July 5, 2008
The cadence filled the air outside of the restaurant as music seeped through the windows. The sound of drunken revelries, close friends and closer enemies engaging in what we would like to call conversation. Journey’s “Don’t Stop Believing”, playing loudly from the tavern nearby, provided the background buzz. It took the man fifteen minutes to get here, ten if a taxi was available and thirty if he decided to walk. The alleys he would have passed would smell of liquor and vomit, and the taxi driver would grossly overcharge him. But now wasn’t the time to consider the minutiae.
The cadence filled the air inside of the restaurant as music poured through the speakers hidden throughout. The sound of plates crashing and wine pouring, awkward first dates and eating what we would like to call dinner. The sounds of car engines and faint music from a nearby tavern provided further background noise. It took the woman twenty minutes to get here, thirty if she hopped on a bus, fifteen if she decided to walk. What caused her to take a taxi in rush hour traffic was something inexplicable. Her apartment was nearby, the bus lines came at a snail-like frequency. But now wasn’t the time to consider the minutiae.
He walked into the restaurant, umbrella in hand.
She took a sip of an alcoholic drink.
They exchanged glances.
Neither of them said a word.