At first, I couldn’t tell if you looked annoyed or anxious. From my seat at the restaurant, all I could see was that you didn’t care the snowfall intensified because you were so focused on your mobile.
After some minutes, I thought you were waiting for an Uber, but then I saw you going doubtfully to my building’s entrance. After a brief exchange with the concierge, you returned to the same point outside of the A&W. Was that your reference point? “I’ll see you outside the A&W, by the All Day Breakfast sign.”
While the snow kept failing, there were no signs of an Uber, a companion, or any movement on your side. If you were waiting for someone, I was puzzled you haven’t made a call yet. I even doubted going outside and asking if I could help with anything, but I had just started my lunch.
You returned to my building’s entrance, this time with a vigorous walk. Your steps seemed to suggest you finally had an answer. The concierge joined you at the interphone, which I believed was the final step of your journey, but I was mistaken. You headed back to your place.
At that point I was truly convinced you were looking for someone at Number Fifteen, but you kept insisting at Number Eight. You wouldn’t be the first to make the same mistake—countless delivery people have been in the same situation since the building opened. Just when I decided to warn the waitress I was not escaping without paying, someone approached you. Your face lightened with a broad smile while your hands signaled that universal gesture of perplexity where both palms face upwards, like asking for an explanation the voice hasn’t expressed.
I sipped my beer while I saw how both of you headed to Numer Fifteen—I knew it!—and it didn’t matter that the snowfall intensified again.
Morning Musings 