The Talk

The conversation started light. How was I doing? Fine. How was she doing? Okay. George her beagle had died, but now there was Kyle, the German Shepherd, so things were looking up, she'd said. Some comments on the weather and the price of gas weaved through, a bit about the plastic cups we were drinking out of. The necessity of recycling, she'd warned. I didn't bring up my habit of using disposable picnic-ware for my meals. A few words on how bad diet drinks were on the body. I was glad I'd ordered mine before she arrived. Then, when the waiter came by to see if we were ready for the check, he was wearing one of those T-shirts with the fake tuxedo printed on the front with a red tie, we said "not yet" in unison and began talking about Derek as if we'd seen him only yesterday.