Woman: No? Oh, well. More for me. I’ve never met anyone who doesn’t like my favorite dessert. I thought my favorite flavor is everyone else’s favorite flavor.
Man: I’d much rather eat a savory salmon steak.
Woman: I can see that.
The man takes a small bite, tastes the lemon basil sauce, and gazes at the river all around. The evening breeze of August brings heat.
Man: I’ve never met anyone that made me promise not to pay for a first date.
Woman: Well, I was out for dinner with a friend once. He said it was his treat. I only ordered cake. So, he’s eating his pasta, and then he reaches across the table and sticks his fork in my plate! Excuse me, but if I choose to have a giant slice of cake for dinner, do you think I’m in the mood to share?
Untethered, the man wipes his mouth and turns to his lady date. She dangles her feet from the high stool. She wears a T-shirt and a long black skirt revealing nothing but the silhouette of her shape. This is the same outfit she posted in her profile photo on Tinder.
Man: I totally get it. It’s like when I go off into my study, and I just want to be alone.
Woman: Alone. Yes. I just want to be alone.
Her fingers release the fork, and it makes a clinging sound. She tries not to look. Her date wears a hoodie. He smells like almost nothing. Fake smells, illusions, addictions, alcohol, no honor, loose mouth – what else? At least this man smells real.
Woman: I love the water. I can’t live without it. I need at least two rivers within walking distance, or I lose my mind.
Man: River or ocean?
Woman: I don’t know. Possibly both. I’m willing to negotiate… Isn’t it wonderful?
The sun sets in pastels on the water.
Waiter: How is everything here?
Woman: Delightful.
The high stool transforms into a deep leather couch. Untethered, the woman cradles her plate and snuggles into the cool leather. The August breeze erects into tall windows. The counter stands vertically and turns into a bookshelf full of books. Another bite of cake, and there’s still half left.
A real American portion is when there’s always still half left. A white Pit bull dog snoozes by the bookshelf.
Cold rain taps and drips. The woman offers a spoonful of frosting.
Woman: Here, take a bite.
Man: Wow. It’s so – chocolaty.
Woman: Amazing.
Man: Do you want to try some of mine?
Woman: No, thank you. I’m allergic.
Man: More for me.
Woman: I don’t want anything of yours.
The white Pit bull snoozing in the corner by the bookshelf raises his head:
Pit bull: How is everything here?
Man: Delightful, thank you. We’ll take the checks.
Woman: Yes, separate please.
The man shrugs. The tall windows dissolve into hot, humid breeze. The couch splits and turns into high stools. The bookshelf topples over and turns into the countertop. The Pit bull turns into the waiter.
Waiter: I’ll be right back.
Woman: Thanks.
Man: For what?
Woman: Thanks for listening to me, for letting me pay for my own cake like I asked. I don’t need the whole world to listen to me. Get one good man to listen, and you own the whole world.
Waiter: Whenever you’re ready.
The woman stretches her arms and yawns. The high stools turn into a couch. She sets down the cake up high, where the Pit bull can’t reach. The man slides closer, cold rain taps and drips.
Man: let’s sleep?
the End //
About the Creator
Maria Stul
Say what you want.
Comments (1)
I can smell the taste of an artist, with some nuances of myself. Do you have more art of yours to share?