Page 82 - Leftovers V2
P. 82
The Gift
It is passed to her companion — friend? partner? lover? spouse? — across the table in the small cafe.
She removes the card, unties the ribbon, peels the tape, carefully preserving the paper. Inside, four brocade dinner napkins,
in Carolina blue, hint at the woman’s age.
Frowning and clearly disappointed,
she opens the card and whispers,
“The print is too small, I can’t read it,” then tears it in quarters and gives it back.
Abruptly, two glasses of wine arrive. Ignoring the remains of the card, they drink in silence, then leave. Now, it becomes my story.
