Nina practically trotted over to the window seat with her sandwich, and then wolfed it down, leaving a trail of marinara sauce down her chin. She gulped down her Coke before wiping it away with a napkin and then disposing of the evidence. She left the sandwich shop and crossed the road to the restaurant where they were due to meet. She gave the false name he always used for their reservations and was shown into the dining room. Here she was sat down at the best table and handed a leather-bound menu. She poured water from the pitcher in the centre of the table and then waited.
And waited.
She would order the avocado salad today, no dressing. And she would leave the avocado. If he thought she was eating again, if he thought she might start gaining weight...
Nina's phone buzzed in her handbag. She fished it out and answered it. He would be late. He wasn't coming. Something had happened. Gillian was back from her skiing trip. She wanted to have lunch. She wanted to be taken shopping on Rodeo Drive. He would be late back to the studio. He was sorry. He would make it up to her. He would buy her something special. Nina fixed a smile on her face and told him not to worry. She understood. She would head back to the studio now and make his excuses.
She hung up and left a tip, even though she hadn't ordered anything. It was her own fault, really. Why did she keep falling for men who were so good to their wives?
Showing posts with label Lunch Date. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Lunch Date. Show all posts
Saturday, 12 May 2012
Lunch Date by Emily Chadwick
She was late.
Eli tore his napkin into fretful strips, tossing anxious glances at the diner’s door.
She was late. She should be here by now. She had said so.
He took a sip of his water, his fingers trembling as he held the glass.
Why was she late? Was it his hair? His clothes? Did he smell bad?
He tried to give himself a discreet sniff, but stopped when he realised that a wizened old man was staring at him from the next table.
“Would you like to order?” The waitress tapped her pencil against her skirt, cherry-red lips twisted in a fake smile.
“I – I’m waiting for someone, thanks.”
“Okey-dokey.”
The waitress tottered away, hips waggling. Eli stared intently at the fingerprints on his glass, his cheeks red. The waitress was probably laughing at him in the backroom.
Maybe she wouldn’t come after all.
All he could do was wait.
Eli tore his napkin into fretful strips, tossing anxious glances at the diner’s door.
She was late. She should be here by now. She had said so.
He took a sip of his water, his fingers trembling as he held the glass.
Why was she late? Was it his hair? His clothes? Did he smell bad?
He tried to give himself a discreet sniff, but stopped when he realised that a wizened old man was staring at him from the next table.
“Would you like to order?” The waitress tapped her pencil against her skirt, cherry-red lips twisted in a fake smile.
“I – I’m waiting for someone, thanks.”
“Okey-dokey.”
The waitress tottered away, hips waggling. Eli stared intently at the fingerprints on his glass, his cheeks red. The waitress was probably laughing at him in the backroom.
Maybe she wouldn’t come after all.
All he could do was wait.
Lunch Date by Sam Smith
Here is a detailed list of things that a pigeon will not eat. The research for this list comes from personal experience gained due to having an hour lunch break from my job at Phones-4-U but no one to share it with and a wide selection of food in the Sainsbury’s along the road. If the pigeon picks up the food and puts it back down after one bite, it still counts as not eating it. These instances are marked with a *. Other exceptions will be included in the notes section and marked accordingly.
Cold chicken tikka. Lettuce*. Blue cheese. Red pepper. Green pepper. Yellow pepper*. Fish fingers*^. Quorn deli style ham slices. Raw egg. Custard. Dark chocolate. Frosties. Polish sausage. Cat food (rabbit). Heinz baked beans. Sainsbury’s brand baked beans*. Jelly^. Mint ice cream. Beef Stroganoff baby food. Ham slices*. Cherry Muller corner yoghurt*. Brussels Pâté. Tomatoes^. Hummus. Strawberry jam. Onions*. Rice^. A birthday cake*. Cous cous. Bombay Bad Boy Pot Noodle (cooked). Sausages. Sweetcorn*.
^Fish Fingers: The pigeon attempted to eat this, but it was frozen.
^Jelly: Pigeons are scared of jelly, no matter what flavour it is.
^Tomatoes: When confronted with a tomato, a pigeon will appear eager, but quickly become dissatisfied when close up to the tomato.
^Rice: Included only because the pigeon ate one grain of rice and promptly died.
Conclusion: Pigeons are pickier than a wife would be.
Cold chicken tikka. Lettuce*. Blue cheese. Red pepper. Green pepper. Yellow pepper*. Fish fingers*^. Quorn deli style ham slices. Raw egg. Custard. Dark chocolate. Frosties. Polish sausage. Cat food (rabbit). Heinz baked beans. Sainsbury’s brand baked beans*. Jelly^. Mint ice cream. Beef Stroganoff baby food. Ham slices*. Cherry Muller corner yoghurt*. Brussels Pâté. Tomatoes^. Hummus. Strawberry jam. Onions*. Rice^. A birthday cake*. Cous cous. Bombay Bad Boy Pot Noodle (cooked). Sausages. Sweetcorn*.
^Fish Fingers: The pigeon attempted to eat this, but it was frozen.
^Jelly: Pigeons are scared of jelly, no matter what flavour it is.
^Tomatoes: When confronted with a tomato, a pigeon will appear eager, but quickly become dissatisfied when close up to the tomato.
^Rice: Included only because the pigeon ate one grain of rice and promptly died.
Conclusion: Pigeons are pickier than a wife would be.
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