They flirt with each other without much concealment, but both are held back. From where each stands, such flirtation is enjoyable, curious and a way to make the passing time more interesting, but not meant to spill over outside the time allotted for meaningless conversation.
“But there is nothing wrong with it”
She is adament about the candle he is about to toss out.
“It won’t light”
“let me do it”
click click click. The orange blaze explodes from the small hole of the lighter but soon envelopes the entire cup she precariously holds. Just a bit further, a bit further, the flame moves to the bent and burnt whick, but then turns on her. She smiles defeatingly and gives it back to him.
“I told you”
He returns later with a fresh candle, holding it as a peace offering. Her tone turns giddy, but commanding as well. She leans towards him as he stands looking down at her, a hand clutching a pencil which she now points in his direction, gesturing towards the puzzle she has been laying on her lap as her purpose for sitting there.
“I’m not smart” he says, creeping towards the door.
“Of course you are, help me. Of course you’re smart.”
He turns away.
He comes back again. His visits become more and more frequent. He sits next to her now, adding in his two cents, finally, to the puzzle she insists he has brains for.
The courage in his voice strains underneath the weight of his uncertainty. “what are you doing tonight?”
“oh, I’m going to be a couple hours…”
The conversation becomes inaudible, she sips on her wine and her head looks up only once as a little girl runs by. He continues to creep into the door frame, lingering in her wake as he fingers his towel. He is about to turn away when the customer sitting nearby says, “excuse me, can I place my order?”
-- Max Cafe, Saturday night.
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