A Fruit Tart In His Stomach

She sits quietly, perched ever so carefully on the chair. Her hands smooth the meticulously chosen dress she’s wearing. Sweeping the restaurant, her eyes examine everything. The dim, warm lighting adds difficulty. It attempts at romanticism, but only gives her a feeling of blindness. She can, however, make out a few things. 

In the booth in front of her, a young couple sits across from each other, as awkward as newborn foals. A few words of their conversation drift towards her, and, wincing slightly, she assures herself that their date can’t be as uncomfortable as it sounds.

 A sliver of light creeps out from the kitchen as a waiter exits. The light padding of his feet gets louder, and then softer as he slips into the darkness. There’s faint laughter as he tells a joke, then a gentle clanking as food is served.

On the brick wall across from her, there’s an abstract style painting filled with strange shapes and odd colors. Tilting her head, she interprets it multiple ways. She takes a moment to further consider it, before moving on to the next item of interest. 

Remnants of a shattered glass lie beneath a table. They are left alone, seemingly forgotten, though they stand out as bright and shiny against the dark wood floor. They are made further visible when light from her window shines on them. It’s slightly open, and she can hear a faint rustling outside. She assumes it’s leaves shaking in a light breeze. The setting sun reflects in her water glass, making it glow a hot orange color. It can’t be that late, can it? 

She reaches into the small red purse next to the glass; looking at a dainty watch, she sees that it’s only been fifteen minutes. Summer makes the days longer, after all. She sighs. It’s not the first time, but that doesn’t make it hurt any less. She resigns herself to wait just a little longer.

He rushes through the streets, feet clicking faintly on the sidewalk. He wears a thick black coat, and is sweating in the humid July air. Weaving between a few pedestrians, he rushes to his destination. His stomach growls, and he reminds himself of the fine fare that awaits him. The fading light reminds him that it’s getting late, and he decides to take a shortcut. He consults his memory of these streets, and faintly recalls an alleyway that cuts through.

Swiftly turning into the dirty alley, he avoids piles of litter and tries to breathe only through his mouth. He resumes this route for several minutes, his pace picking up as the sun begins to set. Soon enough, he reaches the end of the route. A huge wall stretches up to the sky, towering above him. He wonders if it would be insane to climb the wall. He needs to get to his destination, after all. An image of him falling to his death enters his mind, and he dismisses the idea. Shaking his head at his stupidity, he turns around and makes his way back to the main street.

He’d be there soon. Just a little bit longer. 

She shifts in her seat, uncomfortable. A waitress stops by and inquires if she’ll be ordering any time soon. She smiles sadly and replies that she’s waiting for someone. The waitress nods and moves on. Spying a lone napkin on a nearby table, she stands up and grabs it. Her legs scream at the sudden movement after being sedentary for so long. Unsure what she had intended to do with the cloth now in her hands, she returns to her seat. Her hands anxiously twist the shiny white material, and she finds she’s knotted it up. Untangling the knot and resting the wrinkled napkin in her lap, she tries to relax and wait patiently. 

Her foot taps a steady beat on the floor and she grabs her watch. Twenty more minutes. She’ll give him that. And then she’ll be gone.

The world begins to descend into darkness, and he begins to run. Skirting around the last few people out, he spots the lights of the restaurant in the distance. Ignoring signs to wait at a crosswalk, he runs across. A car skids to a halt, honking. Several other cars join in the chorus. He ignores it in favor of his mad dash towards the restaurant. He’s almost there.

A distant honking sounds faintly through the restaurant. She stirs at the sound. The waitress walks over once again and echoes the words from earlier. She feels bad for not having bought anything, so requests a simple desert. She knows she’ll be eating it alone.

A gust of warm air reminds her of the open window, and she turns her head to watch the sunset. Fluffy pink clouds obscure some of it, but she can still see the last slivers of yellow-orange recede beneath the horizon. Blurred lines of dark blue and purple take their place, and slowly the sky goes dark. The waitress deposits a small box containing a fruit tart before her, and she knows that it’s time to leave. 

He’s only yards away now, and a beautiful woman is stepping through the door, a box of food in her hands. He darts towards her, knowing that now is the time.

She exits the restaurant with a sad sigh, before tripping and sprawling ungracefully upon the sidewalk. She feels something touch her hand, and then she sees him. 

He’s the most handsome being she’s ever seen, with soft black hair and exquisite features. They stare, eyes meeting eyes for several long moments, and then he gently touches her face. She feels electricity darting through her skin and smiles. She had come to this restaurant, looking for love. And she had found it. 

She walks off into the fading light with a cat in her arms and love in her heart.

(The cat also had love in his heart, but more importantly, he had a fruit tart in his stomach)