The two sat opposite each other in the booth. They used to sit on the same side. A lit candle on the table between them glows orange. He’s drinking a straight-up whiskey while she twirls her hand around a glass of ginger ale. She’s had her fill of drinks. They sit quietly.  Looking away from one another.

Menus are placed on the table by a waitress who wishes them a good evening. Sicilian flatbread is the special tonight for an appetizer, and fettuccine Alfredo is the special main course. It comes with a salad, she tells them. Take your time. I’ll come back in a little bit. She notices the couple is silent.

He tells the server thank you while she looks through her purse. He takes another drink and swirls the liquor around in his glass.

I forgot my reading glasses, he tells her. Could you tell me what my options are? She grabs the menu from his hands and slides it between them.

You’re always forgetting something, she says. Always something. She points at the eggplant parmesan with the red sauce. There. Have that, she tells him. You always liked eggplant parmesan. You’ll eat it. You’ll eat anything, she whispers.

What’s that supposed to mean? He asks.

Forget it. Just forget it, she says. If you’ll excuse me. She walks away from the booth and heads towards the door.