Today I was pretty good on the writing front. I got about 4,400 words down. I also worked on the retaining wall a wee bit in the back yard, set up the party listing for This is How You Die, and then decided it was time to take my fella out to dinner once he got home. We went out, ordered our meal, and when it came, it was cold.
I never do this, but we asked if they could reheat the food for us - and they took it away, replaced it, and comped us the meal. We both felt so bad; we really just wanted them to heat it up. We were embarrassed. We tipped well.
Ah well. We didn't know that would happen.
"Wish You Were Here," by Lewis DeSimone
Speaking of meals where you're not sure what is going to happen, I'm circling back to The Dirty Diner again today, where author Lewis DeSimone takes us to Italy. This story has a wonderful build to it - we know the voice of the tale is in Italy despite no longer being with the man he loved who'd wanted this trip in the first place. He is here, tasting and watching life go around him, sampling culture as a kind of escape, but not really succeeding in moving past what was.
A chance encounter, however, built on the wine and food of Italy, gives him a moment of potentiality - a chance born in passion that might just shed the past.
I love that this tale doesn't spell everything out for you, but gives you these moments in the life of a man who is still hearing the echo of what was, rather than the sound of what might be. Wonderfully done.
(A reminder, that 99 cent sale is still going on, and if you pop over here you can get the entire anthology, including this wonderful tale, for less than a cup of coffee.)