two friends
meet for a meal

she's been waiting
at the table

he apologises for tardiness
'it's okay' she says

and it is

conversation lingers
and laughter flows faster than the wine
(which is flowing pretty fast)
and their knees brush under the table
and his wrist grazes her hand

and the orange sauce
tastes suddenly like endives

and 'pass the salt'
really means:
'why don't you love me any more?'