It was her smile that got me. She was smiling at him when she looked up and saw me looking in the window, but her eyes didn’t flee, like folks’ eyes usually do when they see me. I told myself she even raised her chin, just a little, in greeting, or at least, in recognition, as if to say, Yes, I see you. You exist. Her smile, and the fact that I was powerful hungry that night, not having found anything all day. So, though I usually don’t bother with these fancy places, I went in.
For our anniversary, Jim took me to the swank new seafood place downtown. He’d reserved the best seat in the house: gorgeous view over the harbor, and the noise of the kitchen well away from us. I was smiling at another of his witticisms about the menu descriptions when I saw a man approaching, the vagrant whose haunted eyes I’d met through the window - those eyes that held stories it seemed like I could hear right through the glass. He’d almost reached our table when the maître d’ swooped in front of him, halting his progress.
I was plating yet another order of $50 scallops when I saw that Marcus had caught himself another miscreant, as he likes to call them. I couldn’t be sure, but I thought it was that man who sleeps on the benches by the park, overlooking the sea. Guess he came in hoping for some luck with a guilty society type or some guy trying to show his date that he’s a nice guy and she should definitely go home with him. I shook my head. Poor guy must be really hungry to brave this place on a Friday. I put the plated scallops in the window.
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