She waited patiently for her table, wondering if the maitre d’ would accommodate her request for a window seat. The one in the corner would be ideal. She could sit there, partly obscured from the other diners by the chinese screen, yet still able to see the door. She would just be able to see the shadows of the passers-by through the creamy opaqueness of the window – enough to see her dining partner’s slow saunter from the direction of the corner. In the meantime, she sat, timidly, quietly, yet with excitement creeping up on her. Waiting for her favourite sister to arrive.
From my seat in the restaurant, I could only see the legs and feet of a lady waiting for a table.
4 comments:
Now it would be nice if 10 different people wrote a short story about this woman.
She waited patiently for her table, wondering if the maitre d’ would accommodate her request for a window seat. The one in the corner would be ideal. She could sit there, partly obscured from the other diners by the chinese screen, yet still able to see the door. She would just be able to see the shadows of the passers-by through the creamy opaqueness of the window – enough to see her dining partner’s slow saunter from the direction of the corner. In the meantime, she sat, timidly, quietly, yet with excitement creeping up on her. Waiting for her favourite sister to arrive.
Oh my god! I love you! Thank you, sister!
Anyone else??
Gorgeous and i love the story, perhaps we should all write short stories about our stuff, heaven forbid!!
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