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Fiction

The Ring

The spiraling tale of the barely eaten lobster. The napkin in the salad. The misplaced fork on the table. A nearly empty bottle of wine.

As it made contact with the cemented floor, clang! It sounded.

The ensuing slap only seemed to propel it faster as it spun. Spiraling round and round as if taking you through the story of the couple who stood beside the table, overlooking the fountain at the center of the restaurant.

The normal chatter and laughter always present, now gone. The deathly silence also paused to watch the scene unfolding before it.

All eyes were on them. A waitress with a bemused look. A defeated look on the man’s face. An infuriated look on the woman standing across from him. The loud clatter of the woman’s heels as she made her way out of the restaurant. A set of Italian shoes trying to keep up.

The spiraling tale of the barely eaten lobster.  The napkin in the salad. The misplaced fork on the table.  A nearly empty bottle of wine.

“A really thirsty couple,” one waiter muttered as he picked up the plates and wine glasses.

A few notes left to pay the bill to celebrate the last supper. An ending relationship.

One woman in a group of well-suited women, undoubtedly celebrating another year of being ‘free’, dared to whisper. A stifled laughter here. A sigh of relief there. The chatter and laughter filled the restaurant once more. People dug into the plates before them. The door opened and closed as the ring finally stopped and toppled to one side.

A glistening beautiful gem, unequaled.

 

Photo Credit: Deviantart

2 replies on “The Ring”

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