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04-Feb-2010 - 13:07

04-Feb-2010 - 13:06

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04-Feb-2010 - 13:05

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He chose a restaurant known more for its privacy and lack of tourist traffic than for its cuisine. It was obviously designed with couples in mind, as each table was bistro-sized, with only two seats.
The waiter appeared, taking their wine order, then disappeared just as quickly, leaving them to each other.
Are you OK? he asked, pushing back the hair from the right side of her face. He winced when he saw the gray speckles of gunpowder burned into her skin.
I still can’t hear out of my right ear, she said. I wonder if that will go away, she mused too casually for his liking.
It depends on how much damage the shock of the discharge did to your ear, he answered pedantically. When we’re done here, we’ll go to the Emergency Room to get you checked out.
I’m fine, she said, waving off the suggestion.
You always say that, Sara, he rebuffed. It’s not always true.
A silence fell between them, but with questions hanging in the air, bidding to be asked. The waiter reappeared with two glasses and a bottle of wine, which he opened with an expert flourish and left it to breathe, fading back out of sight, out of the faint light shed by the flickering candle on their table.
Sara, did you really mean all that you said to McPherson? Do you really feel that way?

04-Feb-2010 - 13:03



 

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