A couple sat silently in a restaurant. Other couples shot quick glances and murmured to their partners how first dates can be so awkward; asked why a white boy is dating a black girl or how can they afford a place like this; said, “I doubt they'll tip the waiter”.
They were oblivious to the fact that these two had been dating for about two years now, and they didn’t worry when there was no topic to discuss, but sometimes preferred silence over a forced conversation. The boy looked at the wall: three paintings hung there, none of them lay straight. A moon, a man, and a pond. These pictures added to the ambience of the low orange lighting, along with the dark red cushions that lined the wall and the dark oak that made up the table. The girl stared at the boy’s hands. They were covered in small scars or discoloration. His nails had dirt underneath, and were ridged from the times he got bored and would chew on them aggressively. Neither of them, however, actually considered the things they appeared to be starting at. Maybe they would ponder the food that was absent from the table, would analyze a moment that happened 5 minutes ago, or would shuffle through the million other things flickering through their heads.
When he noticed the silence, the boy would smirk and say "what you thinkin' bout?" And the girl would respond with, as always, "I don't know"; because to go through every single thing that had passed through her head just then would be too much to explain.