To the girl on table number 7

To the girl at table number seven,

I cannot stop looking at you.Over the course of two appetizers two drinks, three main course dishes and asking for the menu three times, you have aroused a certain curiosity in me,that has taken over my lust for the honey glazed chunk of meat on my plate.Medium rare.Now don't get me wrong, I do not want to court you, take you home,or follow you. I'm just the stranger you've made eye contact with thrice so far sitting at table number five.

There is a certain way in which you poke at your non vegetarian food, two to three times before you stab it with your fork and slice it with your knife, almost as if you're making sure your food is dead. You start off with such enthusiasm, yet eat with such disdain, it's hard for me to be happy finishing my portions. Perhaps you were to meet someone here today? Perhaps a long lost friend, a lover, a family member, or a co-worker, who it seems didn't show up. That would explain a lot of things.

It would explain why you dig into each new dish with newfound energy, a determination of sorts, to keep you from missing that person, a reflection of  It would explain how three to four bites in, you give up. You drop your cutlery on your plate, like a knight surrendering to the enemy.

Helpless, yet dignified.

It seems that you are at constant battle with yourself, one part pushing you to move on, while the other part asking you to look at the watch and keep track, keep hoping and staying put.

You sip your wine, with an ease and satisfaction that is rarely seen.It's almost as if you and that bottle have known each other for a very long time. This tells me that you are well accustomed to your wine, or being left alone at a table. Careful now, no one likes to wake up embarrassed about the previous night...but somehow it seems to me that , it does not bother you. Perhaps you live alone? Perhaps you are new to this city?

Your lips quiver for an instant and then they move while your eyes search for the source. A tune. I didn't realize they had music on. So now I know you're well versed with music from Spain.

I can tell you want to ask for dessert, but you're hesitating. You still play with your food, poke at it, hoping it will consume itself and you will not leave the table with things unfinished, and the night shall not be a total waste. But wait what's this? You do. I read your lips. Caramel Custard. Old School.

That tells me that even though you have a fascination towards experimentation, you are more often that not left disappointed.So you go back to something tried and tested,something you know that will never disappoint you.

Is that why you came? I'm not sure. So much has changed. We have changed. Now your'e confused.

It was I , **%%^ . It's been a few years, and you did not recognize me.I was there earlier than you were. You walked right passed me. I did call your name, or rather found myself losing my voice. It hurt.

I've noticed over the course of just one meal, that you're still very much the same person. But I have changed.
Or have the circumstances.

Forgive me for being so discreet and rude. But I couldn't help it. I apologize.

One cannot go back in time, but one can always have new beginnings.

I'm staying at the Ramada, room number 403. I shall be expecting you.

See you soon.

The stranger at table number five.