Haze

A box full of love

Okay, yes, my hands are up in the air in surrender.

Sorry for the lag, everyone. :/

I hope you enjoy. :)

Love.

***

She tapped her foot absently on the marble floor and waited for his arrival. The receptionist was watching intently, just moments away from approaching her and asking her to order in the polite yet stone cold manner of typical expensive restaurants. She was dressed in a dark blue dress which clung to her delicate frame, making her look like a quiet ocean which would only ripple silently on the surface under the pressure of stormy winds, and be just as collected and nurturing inside. Her smooth brown hair was tied in a ponytail that fell over her bare shoulder in golden brown swivels. She checked her black strappy watch and then looked back up, turned her head to the side glancing expectantly at the door that never swung open to let the cold breeze in. That boxed the warmth of the restaurant and smell of the slowly, patiently cooking food.

The waiters breezed back and forth carrying trays of food, and casting a glance at her every now and then, making her want him to come sooner, so that she could blend back into the normal blur of the restaurant. The receptionist was holding back the urge to ask her to leave- as her eyes suggested, which seemed to rest on the lone figure that sat quietly in a corner every now and then. The truth was, that the way she sat erect, now running her eyes over the couples and families that sat around her, made her look like a picture ready to be painted, making everyone just pass her, without wanting to break their own spell. One could either look at the lights and the paintings that hung on the beautiful walls and people chattering and trays walking around.

Or look at her breathing figure in the dim yellow lights.

The brief times the spell was expected to break was when she did something like bite her lip or rest her elbows on the table and her chin on the swell of her palms, like she was doing now. Head resting the way it was, she ran her eyes around, still trying to get as much out of the moment as she could, because he still didn't show up, and it was past half an hour and five unanswered phone calls. Finally accepting her situation, she sighed and closed her eyes, now unabashed, exposing herself to all those who were supposed to never take notice as she blended in and became one of the happily chatting couples.

But after closing her eyes, it was now another ordeal to open them and finally have the receptionist rain down on her. But that concern was now overshadowed in the face of the empty seat opposite her, which could either be a reminder, or an opportunity.

She opened her eyes and raised two fingers in the air mouthing an 'excuse me' to the receptionist that was already looking at her. She smoothed her skirt from under the table as a waiter very promptly came and stood at her side, with a note-pad and pencil ready. After all, that was quite a debate he had had to have in the kitchen which he won to be able to hear the mysterious lady speak; and now with his polished shoes and slick hair he flashed a victorious and fascinated grin and asked her what she would like.

She ordered two plates of lasagna, two glasses of red wine and some salad. The waiter looked briefly at the empty chair and then back at her brown eyes, that looked directly into his. He hitched his attention back to the notepad and turned around and walked purposefully to the kitchen with a brief nod, almost like a comrade.

In some time, when he returned, he placed the steaming food neatly, and walked away without a word, except 'complimentary' while lighting a small candle and placing a rose in the empty vase that stood empty and expectant at all other tables. And the curious events so followed that the skinny receptionist smiled a red lipstick smile from across the hall that seemed a lot less expensive now.

She looked back at her table from across the hall, and prepared to eat with the candle glow overlooking and the steam from the second plate dying out, making no effort to blend in, when she wasn't meant to. Gracefully twirling the pasta between the fork and knife, she took her time to finish. The waiter came back, but looked quizzically at the untouched second plate.

'Oh. Yes, that.' She smiled and looked up at him, 'please get this packed and delivered to anybody you think needs it.'

'Anybody?'

'Absolutely. Let me make it easy for you-' she folded the napkin from her lap and placed it beside the plate. '-the first person you see on the street when you go home from work.' She shuffled out of her seat to head towards the reception, but then abruptly turned around. 'Oh and, can I have a slip from your notepad and a pen, please?' The waiter looked like he could give her his life.

She bent down and scribbled something, folded the small white mysterious slip and handed it to the waiter with a lit up face. 'Also, please give this to him or her.'

Still fascinated and loyal to the lady, he walked home in the cold winds carrying the warm plastic box in his hands enveloped in a brown paper bag. He didn't have to walk a long way, and he spotted a young man rushing in the opposite direction. On stopping in front of him and earning a curse in response, he almost felt like moving on to another candidate he liked, but then he thought something else and handed him the package, speaking in his best velvety tone which clearly expressed 'expensive restaurant'. 'This is a service by one of the kind charitable customers in our restaurant across the road, and you seem to have won this. Bon appetit!' he shoved the package in his hands and continued his walk past the confused man in a hurry, thinking what a pity it would be when this man would read a note that said, 'Thanks for the dinner. Love.' and never be able to see who wrote it.