“Um, did you want to wait a few more minutes or…”, said the waitress, awkwardly asking as if her words were the only thing preventing a bomb from exploding in front of everyone.
“No, it’s okay, I’ll just take the check, thanks.”
As if I had any other choice.
The waitress, Amy, according to her name tag at least, gave a slight nod and walked away in relief. I can only assume she had expected something more explosive, or, judging by the prying eyes of the rest of the restaurant’s staff, something more entertaining. Either way, with no other way to escape from the restaurant’s gaze, I grabbed my phone and pulled up our messages again, refreshing and reloading, hoping that my phone glitched or that I missed a message, but as these things tend to go, I accepted my ghosted fate. I kept staring at the screen, counting down how much time had passed since the last ‘read’ notification. It was too long.
Maybe someone she knows got into an accident and she had to rush out? What if she was secretly an estranged princess from overseas and got kidnapped inside the bathroom by a secret rebel group who want to use her to gain power in their country and take over? What if she is just violently sick and is simply dying in a stall right now?
“Here you go sweetie, take your time”, said the waitress as she gently slid the bill in front of me, knocking me out of my desperate fantasy excuses. I looked down at the tray hiding the bill, at the very least, I was grateful that she didn’t order anything expensive, though it made me wonder whether she had planned this from the beginning.
I smiled back, “thanks, sorry about this”.
She shook her head and gave me a sad look, as if trying to sympathize, but failing to find the right words to say. She tried anyways, “I hope I’m not overstepping but I just wanted to say it’ll get better. Truly.”
I didn’t know how to respond to that so I just thanked her and took the check out of its hiding spot. I noticed there was a small doodle of a mouse in the corner with the words ‘you can do it!‘. It caught me off guard and brought a little smile to my face, though the real surprise was the ‘amount due’ at the bottom of the bill, or rather, the lack thereof. I turned towards Amy, looking at her in confusion. Maybe the receipt was printed incorrectly, accidentally fading out the actual price, but she simply smiled and walked away.
Whether it was an act of pity or one of kindness, it was one I didn’t expect, and one I didn’t know how to handle. I rushed to grab my stuff and leave before my tears escaped me. As I attempted to escape from my embarrassment I heard Amy’s voice echo through the doors, “come back soon!”
Yeah, right.
author’s note?
this is a work in progress with no clear schedule or even commitment to finishing
I felt weird writing author’s note before this, as if I have any authority to call myself an author. I think authors are amazing people, it’s not easy to place your soul into a passion project and release it into the wild for other people to scrutinize. It’s an aspect of writing that’s always held me back, there’s something about writing that always feels vulnerable to me. no matter the subject or the genre, I feel like any sort of writing exposes a side of me that no one can truly ever see, after which I wonder whether what I write will be any good and if not, subsequently does that mean that side of me is no good too? it’s something that’s plagued me ever since I was little, back when I was in prime when it came to literature. I’ve always wanted to write *something* but the more I attempted to place my words on paper, the more exposed my insecurities and worries became. ultimately, I still worry about my words, but I’ve realized that nothing will ever come about from words trapped in my mind and even if I write something terrible, at least I wrote something. the effort I place in this is not a wasted one, and hopefully, I’ll be able to use this as experience to grow not only as someone who wishes to have my words be read, but as a person and as a member of humanity.
Lunar Thoughts 