Famished

"Yes, please."

They sat across the table from one another. Food already boxed - ready to go. He looked at her. She looked at him. He smiled.

"I'm going to kill you," he said.
She smiled her lovely smile back and said, "Sweetie, I love you."

He leaned back in his chair, for effect of course, sipped his wine, his red, red wine, and replied, "I love you too. I've always wanted to smother someone... with love. Perhaps you'll be the first."

"May I get a bit more please?"

She sat alone. The check came at the same time her food did. That's fucking depressing. She must not enjoy her own company. She probably tells horrible jokes. Or interrupts other's sentences. What a bitch. She stared at her salad. I wondered where her family was. She must've killed them. Murdered them. One by one.

The husband left the toilet seat up. She fell in. He also forgot to put more toilet paper on the holder. She couldn't wipe. Her son, while driving to the store to pick up cleaning supplies, wrecked the car. He got bleach all over the black seats. The daughter, who's only 15, is pregnant. The father of the young girl's child is a homeless man. The daughter loves this man because he is worldly - that and she believes it is her civic duty to help him in any way she can. She was born in San Francisco.

That's what must have happened.
It all happened right before dinner.
They deserved it.

"No maam, I'm good."

Or maybe... Maybe her family is at home, and she's eating dinner without them. That's it. She's eating this delicious food, while they have to eat their own cooking. What a bitch.

"May I have more napkins please?"

Finally. Pizza's here.

Random note: Never fall in love with another's pizza. It's not for you to eat, and you're better off not imagining how great it may taste.