growing apart

 

The restaurant is busy with lunch patrons. We take our table next to the open window. The breeze attempts to calm my nerves while I catch up with my friends.

Their bemused smiles never waver while I talk about the book I read. I listen with polite nods while they talk about their families whom I have never met. None of us finish the food.

Ice in my glass of water melts and clinks. The glass drips with sweat. The breeze pats my hand.

“Stay in touch, okay?”

As we part, we make no promise for the next rendezvous.

 

For Friday Fictioneers – 10 August 2018.

PHOTO PROMPT © Ronda Del Boccio