Mr. Porter's Last Supper

Mr. Porter is a man of great influence, well-known throughout the city for his power which he acquired through means both legal and not so legal. At 6’5” and 300 pounds, his mere presence was intimidating. But his cordial demeanor went a long way to smooth things over with people who were fortunate enough to be on his good side. He recently received the news that his estranged daughter and only legitimate child is pregnant. Having been the conqueror of all he surveyed for so long, Mr. Porter decided it was time for him to step down from power and become a true family man for the first time in his life. He would get to know his daughter better, help her raise the baby, and ensure that his grandchild would never want for nothing.

Noble a move as that may sound, it creates one rather messy problem: stepping down is seen as a sign of weakness and Mr. Porter has acquired many enemies on his way to the proverbial top. It only took a matter of hours for news of his retirement to reach the ears of his fiercest competitors in both the corporate world and underworld. Mr. Porter knew that his corporate rivals were of no consequence, and his lawyers have ensured him that there are no more connections between him and his criminal empire (at least none that can be proven in court) so the FBI was nothing to fear. But it only took one day after he announced his retirement to his staff for Mr. Porter to learn that one of his enemies had hired an assassin, one that goes by the name of The Fox. No one had ever met The Fox in person and if it wasn’t for the fact that Mr. Porter had hired this mysterious mercenary once or twice, he would have little reason to believe such an assassin actually existed.

When it was confirmed that The Fox was the one hired to take him out, he knew there was little that could be done to escape imminent death. He made sure his affairs were in order. He named the successor to his businesses, both legitimate and otherwise. There was no easy way he could tell his daughter face to face what was about to happen so he wrote her a letter to be given to her when he died. One does not attain Mr. Porter’s position without being prepared for such matters so when the day that a hit was actually put out on him there was little else to do than to have his last supper. He knew exactly which restaurant, which meal and which courses, which wine to order, and he even knew which suit he was going to wear. A part of him wishes he could spend his last meal with his daughter but she was visiting her boyfriend, father to Mr. Porter’s grandchild.

“Is there anything else I can get you, sir?” the waitress asked as she poured him his wine.

“That should be all. Thank you,” Mr. Porter responded as the waitress hurried back to the kitchen. His eyes wandered around the room deliberately, a habit that has kept him alive in his earlier days. But old habits die hard even if he has had a cadre of bodyguards following for the past few years. It’s a good thing too because his experienced eyes spotted a single person who didn’t quite fit in that particular restaurant.

Mr. Porter spotted the tall, thin man before he sat down and thought it was odd that the stranger was wearing tinted glasses indoors. Where this thin man was sitting, he had a perfect view of Mr. Porter’s seat. This may very well be The Fox, Mr. Porter thought to himself. He didn’t anticipate being killed this early. The thin man wore a smart suit that was expensive but did not attract too much attention other than the pale ivory cufflinks and beautiful silk tie. While the tinted glasses hid the thin man’s eyes, it was pretty clear he was looking straight at Mr. Porter. The thin man sipped at his espresso. The waitress then came out of the kitchen and served Mr. Porter’s starters. When she left his table, the thin man approached him.

“Yes?” Mr. Porter asked the thin man without looking at him, perturbed at the thin man’s audacity.

“I know you’ve been expecting me,” the thin man replied. “Do you mind if I sit with you?”

“You’ve got some balls, pal,” Mr. Potter answered. “Can’t I enjoy this meal in peace, at the very least?”

“Mr. Porter, if you don’t wish to eat with me that’s perfectly fine. But know that our business with each other will be seen through by the time you finish your dinner regardless if I’m permitted to sit down or not. I simply came over to tell you how much I respect you.”

“This doesn’t seem like a move you’d normally make. It seems messy to me, if I’m being completely honest with you.”

“I hardly ever do this. But for you I’d make an exception.”

“What’s so special about me?”

“Let’s just say you’re business has helped my business.”

“So what about me do you respect, exactly? What makes me so special that you show yourself to me before our little transaction is complete?”

“You’ve led quite a life, Mr. Porter. But for you to walk away from it and right the wrongs with your daughter is very admirable.”

The waitress came and took Mr. Porter’s empty dish away. The thin man watched as the attractive, young waitress hurriedly walked past. He took off his tinted glasses and put them in his inside coat pocket.

“As you can see, it’s not exactly going as well as I’d hoped,” Mr. Porter responded, “being interrupted in the middle of dinner and all.”

“I understand,” the thin man said as he was about to turn around, “I’ll let you finish your dinner.”

“No,” Mr. Porter stopped him, “You can sit. If this is my last meal I might as well take advantage of the company. Even if it is you.”

“Thank you, Mr. Porter,” The thin man took the seat directly across from him. The waitress came by and served the main course. Mr. Porter offered to pay for another espresso for the thin man who politely declined. “I know it sounds silly to admire someone like you even if it is for something as noble as taking care of family.”

“There’s no shame in wanting to get out of this dirty business. I’ve thought about it many times.”

“So why did you wait so long to actually do it?”

“I’m not going to lie. I really loved the power and the money. When you get that at the rate I was getting it, and at a young age too, it’s really hard to give that stuff up. Every so often you’ll run into a girl that will make you want to leave the life.”

“Of course, of course,” the thin man watched as Mr. Porter methodically devoured the perfectly cooked steak. The waitress came by and poured another glass of wine. “Obviously none of them had a lasting effect.”

“Not exactly true. One girl nearly convinced me to get out of the life completely: my daughter.”

“What happened?”

“Her mother didn’t exactly want me in her life. She took off with her. Can you imagine that? She was my daughter too and she just took off with her. I sent people to find them but my ex-wife refused to be found.”

“So when did you reconnect with your daughter? How did you find her?”

“She found me actually. It was a few years ago and she was just out of high school. She wanted to know who her father was so she hired a private investigator. I seriously thought it was a fed. Nearly had the guy killed too.”

“But you didn’t. I would have known about that.”

“No I didn’t. It’s messy business to have someone killed anyway, expensive too. Obviously there are no do-over’s so you better be damned sure the guy you want killed deserves it.”

There was silence for a minute as Mr. Porter continued to eat. It was obvious he was enjoying it despite having an unexpected guest.

“You don’t seem afraid of me,” the thin man said.

“I don’t see any need to be. A situation like this was bound to happen the way things were going. I just wish I had more time to spend with my daughter. When she first found me, I was caught off guard. I had no idea what it took to be a good father. I ended up just throwing money at her whenever she came to talk to me.”

“Men like you aren’t built for family life, anyway.”

“Men like us, you mean,” Mr. Porter remarked as the waitress brought out the dessert.

“No, Mr. Porter,” the thin man clarified, “I’m not like you. I don’t indiscriminately throw a man’s life away as if it were a simple plaything that happened to be in my way. I feel every death that I’m responsible for.”

“You get numb to it after a while. Trust me.” Mr. Porter devoured the desert. He sensed his end was near and decided there was no reason to mind one’s manners at this point.

“That’s what’s different between you and me. We take lives all the time. But I have no choice to live the way I do. You made your choice to be a crook.” The waitress came by to refill Mr. Porter’s glass with wine one more time and left the check at the table.

“I don’t know if it’s your reputation or the fact that you’re about to kill me, but I admire the guts you have to talk to me like that. It’s been a while since someone has. But you’re wrong.” Mr. Porter took a swig of wine into his mouth.

“Wrong about what?”

“I was built for family life. I did my best to take care of my daughter the only way I knew how. It was the wrong way, sure, but I tried my best and you can’t fault me for that. At least, with me out of the picture, my grandchild won’t have to know about the monster who was his grandfather.” Mr. Porter savored the last swallow of wine.

“Are you ready?”

“I was born ready. Can I ask you something first?”

“Of course you can, Mr. Porter.”

“Aren’t you afraid of being seen here with me? You got a lot of eyewitnesses around.”

“I don’t think you understand, Mr. Porter.”

“What don’t I understand?”

“I’m not here to kill you because I’m not The Fox.”

“Then who the hell are you?”

“I go by many names. But many people refer to me as Death. These other people here haven’t been able to see me since I approached you.”

“What? So I’m dead already?”

“Soon.”

“How? How soon?”

“A minute or two, and a man of your know-how should be able to figure it out, Mr. Porter.”

Mr. Porter closed his eyes when he realized that his antiquated notion of “hitmen” had deceived him.

“The waitress,” Mr. Porter finally said.

“The waitress,” Death confirmed.

“I would have never expected The Fox to be a woman. Is she going to shoot me?”

“She doesn’t have to. She’s a bit more subtle.”

“Poison? I didn’t taste any--”

“You wouldn’t have tasted anything different. The chemicals she used, alone, were completely harmless. But used together, it is quite a powerful poison. It’s quite elegant approach if you ask me.”

“I thought that waitress was a little too good at refreshing my wine,” Mr. Porter said as he chuckled to himself. “So that’s it. Is it going to hurt?”

Death didn’t respond. He just got up from his chair and Mr. Porter joined him. The two shook hands as Mr. Porter looked back and saw his lifeless body slump over and fall off the chair. The strange duo walked out of the restaurant to the sound of panicked patrons screaming.

Small Talk

The old man enjoyed eating on the outdoor patio of this particular restaurant. Something about the fresh air really stimulated his appetite. It wasn’t on a busy street so it wasn’t terribly busy and the air wasn’t tainted with the acrid air of car emissions. The waitress walked up to his table where he was quietly reading a news paper.

“Are you ready to order, sir?” the waitress asked with a smile.

“I believe I am but if I could just have a few more moments. My daughter hasn’t arrived yet and I’d hate to get her order wrong, or have the food get cold before she gets here,” the old man responded.

“Of course, sir,” the waitresses nodded as she turned to walk to the next table. The old man thought for a split second and waved her back.

“Actually, I’m sorry. Would it be too much trouble to ask for a cup of tea before ordering any food? I’d like something to drink while waiting for my company to arrive.”

“Absolutely! What kind of tea would you like?”

“Oh, I’m not too picky. And could you kindly throw away this newspaper for me? Reading it always makes me so sad.”

“It’d be my pleasure,” the waitress said as she took the newspaper under her arm. “I’ll get you a cup of chamomile. It’s my favorite and calms me right down.”

“Thank you so much! I wonder if there was ever a time when being well-informed of current events wasn’t such a depressing endeavor. You’ve been so helpful, Sarah. Thank you, again.”

“Don’t mention it,” Sarah smiled and threw the newspaper in the waste bin. It was then that she realized that she had forgotten her name tag at home. Perhaps she had waited on the old man before and couldn’t remember. It’s unlikely but really the only explanation that made sense to her.

A small boy wandered around under the tables of the outdoor patio as if it were an endless forest made of plastic, metal, and bits of wood. The old man smiled knowing how lost the child was in his own little world. The boy saw the old man who pretended not to notice. The young boy inched his way out from underneath the adjacent table and just stared at the old man who was still pretending he wasn’t being watched by a pair of young eyes. His little hands held on to the chair he hid behind as if the floor were about to give way any second. His eyes just stared at the old man who seemed so familiar and strange at the same time. It was then the old man acknowledged the small boy’s presence, without looking up as Sarah served the tea. He thanked her as she left.

“You seem to be on quite the adventure, young man,” the old man said. The child coiled back out of shyness, trying to hide behind the chair knowing it was an utterly useless action.

“I don’t think I remember what it’s like to be as young as you,” the old man continued. The boy emerged from behind the chair. “But no one ever forgets what it’s like to go on an adventure! How are you, John? I don’t believe we’ve formally met.”

The boy’s eyes widened. He wasn’t sure if he was supposed to be afraid of this stranger or polite to this man who somehow knew his name. There was something about the old man that led John to believe that he is to be trusted. He wasn’t exactly sure what it was, but John felt like he was talking to a best friend he never knew.

“Where’s your mother?” The old man asked. John turned towards a woman on the other end of the patio chattering away angrily on her cell phone. The boy didn’t say a word but the old man knew what he was trying to communicate. She was completely unaware that her son had wandered through a forest of tables and chairs to stumble upon a conversation with a familiar stranger.

“Do you know who I am, John?” The old man asked. John just looked at him with deepening curiosity until a tiny spark made itself known in his eyes. John was about to say something until the old man raised his hand to stop him. “No, I’m not Santa Claus though a lot of people make that mistake, a lot more often than I’d care to admit.” Now John had to solve the mystery of how this man not only knew his name but knew what he was going to say before he even said it. What sort of super powers did this old man have? John wondered.

“Well, I’ll give you a hint,” the old man answered. “I’m a scientist and an artist. I only created one thing that everyone recognizes but they wouldn’t know me if I was looking them right in the face. It’s okay though. I like being anonymous. Do you know what that means? Anonymous? It’s like being hidden in plain sight. You see, I don’t like seeking attention. Have you guessed who I am?” John nodded, no. “You’re a smart boy; I think you’ll figure it out.”

John looked at the old man and smiled a tiny smile.

“You think I’m odd, don’t you?” the old man asked. John didn’t respond, just kept on smiling. “It’s okay. I think you’re odd too. And that’s quite a compliment. Trying to blend in is wasted energy especially if it’s far from the type of person you want to be. But being yourself is as rewarding as it is difficult. Now to be yourself and remain anonymous—well, that’s one of the great balancing acts of life. You see, it’s a delicate thing to both stay out of the spotlight while being you because each and every person is unique and worth getting to know.”

The young boy’s mother began to yell into her cell phone still oblivious to John’s absence. The smile melted away from the child’s sweet face as the old man looked on at the mother.

“You know, John,” the old man said as if John’s mother hadn’t just been yelling in public, “I have many children. My oldest tends to be a bit of a troublemaker. We get into huge arguments, so large in fact that many people think we don’t like each other when in reality I love her as much as any of my other children. Do you understand what I’m saying?”

John was distracted and didn’t answer the old man. The old man took a sip of his tea and waited until the young boy turned back to him.

“Do you see that lovely young lady over there? The one wearing the red dress and talking to those gentlemen over there in the distance?” The old man asked as he pointed her out. “Her name’s Lucy. It’s short for something but I can’t tell you what. You wouldn’t believe me if I told you and if you did believe me it might frighten you, but the important thing is we’re here to have lunch because we love each other (even though we fight all the time). In fact, I’m pretty sure she’s hiding that conversation she’s having from me. She can be mischievous like that from time to time.

“Now, it’s not my place to tell you but I know why your mother’s yelling worries you and I know what she’s mad about. I know you haven’t seen much of your father lately and that’s a little bit of why she’s so cross all the time. But know that it’s not your fault. In fact, without you she would be entirely loss and I know that seems like a lot of responsibility for someone so young but the young are so much stronger than people give them credit for. She might yell at you when she’s angry but I assure you she’s not mad at you most of the time, and someone like you, John, you’ll know when she isn’t. Both your father and mother love you more than they thought they could love anyone and nothing, I really do mean nothing, can change that. But it’s a rough time for your parents right now. And those are the times that you have to be at your strongest because this next year or so will be rough for your family.”

John was scared but the old man held his shoulder and he somehow felt assured that all would be okay, that he was never really alone as long as he was there for his mother. The young boy still couldn’t fully understand how this old man knew any of this but he was more worried about his mother. John smiled at the old man before being grabbed by the arm and turned around violently and abruptly.

“Johnny! What did I say about wandering off? Sometimes you’re nothing but trouble I swear to--” she stopped herself as she realized her son was talking to an old man. Her voice lowered as she addressed him. “I’m so sorry about him. He won’t bother you again. Isn’t that right?” She said that last sentence forcefully as she stared at the boy intensely. John looked at the old man and back at his mother.

“I’m sorry, mommy,” the boy finally said in a register just above a whisper. “It won’t happen again.” He wrapped his arms around his mother’s waste. She was caught off guard and didn’t know how to respond except apologizing for John’s behavior.

“I’m so sorry he bothered you. He can be--” she was cut off by a simple hand gesture from the old man.

“It’s quite all right,” the old man said, “In fact, your son is quite the conversationalist. You two must talk a lot. And he was no bother, just a curious boy looking to go on an adventure underneath patio furniture. And congratulations by the way!” He added. “John here told me how excited he was about getting a baby…” The old man looked at John’s mother expecting her to finish the answer.

“Thank you,” the mother replied, “But I don’t know if it’s a boy or a girl. We wanted it to be a surprise but my husb--” she got choked up and held back tears. She couldn’t bring herself to say the word “husband.” Her eyes wandered down to John’s eyes and she couldn’t help but smile.

“It was nice meeting you,” the old man said. “And it was an honor to know you, young John.”

“Likewise,” the mother said. John waved as the two walked down the street.

Lucy walked towards her father and kissed him on the cheek as she put her purse on the empty chair across from the old man.

“Hey, dad,” she said. “I’ve got to go freshen up. I’ll be right back.”

“Sure thing, Luce,” her dad responded. “Wait a minute, who were those gentlemen you were speaking to just now?”

“Nobody, but I’ll tell you all about it when I come back. It’s actually a funny story,” Lucy said. The old man saw Lucy toss a pamphlet into the waste bin where his newspaper was also thrown. As he waited for his daughter to return, the old man reflected on how much he always enjoyed small talk.

Late Lunch

Lucy was on her way to lunch with her father who she hasn’t seen since their last argument. It had been a while. She was an attractive petite blond in her twenties who used to be such a sweet angel until she decided it was time to be on her own. Her and her father butted heads quite often but ultimately they end up patch things up over lunch the next day. It was a simpler relationship than any other observer would care to admit, and easily misunderstood.

“Young lady!” a man in his mid-forties implored as he extended a hand to Lucy expecting her to shake it. She did not. “Do you have a minute to speak with us today?” The man gestured to his companion who was just a few years older than Lucy but much shorter than he looked like he ought to be. It was as if his struggle with gravity was a losing one. It seems his only purpose was to hold what looked to be church pamphlets for the older man who did all the talking.

“I really can’t,” Lucy responded as she lifted her foot up to shove her heel back in her shoe, “I’m on my way to meet my dad for lunch.” She wore her hair up today. And her summer dress was as red as the color of her lipstick. She wore her Chuck Taylor’s which were half a size to large but they were comfortable.

“Please, it will only take but a minute, young lady,” the man begged smiling with the little bit of charm that he had.

“I’d rather not,” she answered. Lucy was annoyed and couldn’t be bothered to be polite about the fact that she was running late.

“I was just wondering if you had a minute to talk about God,” the man said in one last ditch effort to lure Lucy. Most people would have kept on walking but there was a mischievous twinkle in Lucy’s eye.

“You’d like to talk about God?” she asked.

“Yes!” the man exclaimed it as if it were some badge to be touted about, like a secret that’s worth telling only the most worthy. “Are you a religious person, miss? For instance, do you go to church?”

“Not particularly. No.” Lucy answered succinctly.

“May I ask why?”

“What’s the point? People go to church to pray. There’s nothing to pray for other than one’s own personal gain.”

“Well I don’t pray for myself. That would be a very selfish thing to go to church for.”

“You’re telling me you’ve never asked God for anything to make your life just a little bit better?”

“I ask God to help those who need helping.”

“Why don’t you just help them?”

“I do help them. In fact, that brings me to my next point. You see, I’m a pastor at a church not too far from here. My name is George and this this is my helpful friend, Jordan.” Jordan nodded his head to Lucy who thought it made him look more like a well-trained pet than a helpful friend.

Pastor George continued to talk about the wonders of his church and Lucy continued to deflect his every advance. George seemed more an experienced salesman trying to make a pitch than a pastor attempting to spread charity. Lucy sensed this early on and allowed the old man to attempt to restore her faith in what he referred to as “God.” At one point, the pastor tried to convince her that Jordan was gifted with the ability to sense one’s closeness to God.

“How about that old man there? Why don’t you show Lucy here what you can do?” George asked he gestured to the old man sitting alone at the restaurant patio. Jordan stretched out his free hand, closed his eyes, and slowed his breathing. It took all of Lucy’s strength to stifle her laughter. Finally, Jordan put down his hand and took a deep breath as if he had been running the whole time. Without saying a single word he looked to George and shook his head.

“I thought so,” George commented to Jordan. The pastor then turned to Lucy. “Jordan here senses that not only is that old man sorely lacking in his ability to be close with God but--” George paused and looked at Jordan to confirm what he was about to say, “But it seems he may have an exceptional capacity for evil.”

Lucy nodded and assured them that she had to get going as to not be any later for her lunch meeting than she already was. Jordan handed George a church pamphlet and the old man wrote down his phone number on it before handing it to Lucy. They parted ways and Lucy headed towards the so-called evil old man.

“Hey, dad,” she said as she put her purse on the table in front of the empty chair. “I’ve got to go freshen up. I’ll be right back.”

“Sure thing, Luce,” her dad responded. “Wait a minute, who were those gentlemen you were speaking to just now?”

“Nobody, but I’ll tell you all about it when I come back. It’s actually a funny story,” Lucy said. As she walked away she tossed the pamphlet into the waste bin.

Large Planet, Small World

The kettle boiled over and whistled Kathleen into the kitchen. She knew her kettle better than anyone and its whistle wasn’t quite the right pitch for the temperature she was going for. Kathleen was very particular about her tea and waited a few seconds, drying her wet hair before taking the kettle off the stove. She always loved how the whistle would instantly quiet down when taken off the heat. Walking around barefoot on the linoleum floor made soft wet sounds as she went back to the bathroom to get a wide toothed comb which she ran through her hair with one hand, pouring the hot water with her other hand into her usual mug, three quarters full.

Steam rose slowly from the mug as Kathleen fetched a tea bag, a teaspoon and some honey. She tossed the bag into the mug, already warm from the water and let the bag steep for a few minutes. The refrigerator door was heavy, seemingly heavier than Kathleen herself as she searched the shelves for a lemon. There was a thin slice hidden away, for some reason, by the egg carton. Kathleen curled her lips in a half-hearted smile and lifted her eyebrows as if she were surprised to even find anything. She hadn’t been to the groceries in just about a week. Better put lemons on the list, she told herself.

She gracefully lifted the teabag out of the hot water and placed it on a small dish where she kept the lemon and teaspoon. She added some cold water to her tea, impatient to let it cool on its own. One squirt of lemon and a gentle squeeze from the squeeze bottle of honey shaped like a bear wearing a cone for a hat. Kathleen would hardly call herself a connoisseur of honey but she always enjoyed the brand with the bear shaped bottle not for reasons of tastes or nostalgia but because it resembled the cartoonish looking bear on the side of her mug. The bear on her mug was chubby with rosy cheeks and smiled at her in a way that cheered her up whenever she was down. Plus, it reminded her of Tom.

Tom took a deep breath and rubbed the sleep out of his eyes as he reluctantly got out of bed. He looked over to the clock on the stand by his bed and when the red fuzziness focused into something resembling digital numbers he saw the time and suddenly jolted into the kitchen. He poured two scoops of coffee grounds, contemplating plopping down a third but thinking better of it, into a new coffee filter. The shower head rattled as the water came jetting out of it and the sleepy Tom jumped in only to jump back out with a scream that would have otherwise should have been credited to a small girl. Once the hot water finally got going Tom took a quick shower and got dressed for work.

The coffee machine can be heard percolating as he was combing his wet hair into a less messy clump on top of his head. Tom would rub a bit of gel into his hair and by the time he ran his fingers a third time through a stubborn tuft at the very top of his head he contemplated getting a haircut. He finally tamed the hair as best he could and chose a tie to wear to work and wrapped it around his neck bringing his collar down over it. Eager for caffeine, Tom headed back to the kitchen before tying his tie. He saw his laptop and just realized he had left it on all night.

His favorite mug was hand painted, a gift from Kathleen, with a picture of a lemon being chased by a Kathleen’s teddy bear mug, an inside joke between the sweet couple. Tom poured himself some coffee and was about to pour in some cream before noticing one of the buttons on his dress shirt clinging on for dear life. He put away the cream and decided that some milk and maybe some sugar would be better for him. The steam was still rising from the coffee as he laid it on the table where Kathleen was patiently waiting for him.

“At this rate, you’re going to be late for work again,” Kathleen said, startling Tom.

“I’m so glad I put the coffee down before you said anything,” Tom answered, “I would have spilled it all over myself. You scared the bejesus out of me.” He attempted to tie his tie while Kathleen talked.

“Don’t act like you didn’t know I was here this whole time.”

“I really didn’t.”

“So you didn’t see me sitting here while you were trying to make coffee? Which you made quite a mess doing by the way.”

“Like you said, I’m running late again.”

“Maybe I should get you a better alarm clock, perhaps one that will shower you with ice cold water since that seems to wake you up.”

“There’s an idea,” Tom adjusted his tie to make sure it was the proper length, “Wait a minute… Did you hear me--?”

“--Scream like a little girl?” Kathleen asked. “No, I was just sitting here.”

Tom fixed his tie and finally made eye contact with Kathleen. He smiled at her and took a sip of coffee burning his tongue before grunting in pain. Kathleen jumped and covered a stifled laugh with her hand. Tom saw her giggling and admitted it was probably funnier from her perspective than it was from his.

“Laugh it up, fuzzball,” Tom responded sarcastically. He looked at his attire to make sure he didn’t get any coffee on his well-groomed attire. Luckily, he didn’t and took a tea towel to wipe up the parts of the dining table that he did spit up on.

“Fuzzball? Isn’t it a bit too early for that kind of reference?”

“It’s never too early for that kind of reference.”

“Dork.”

“You know you love me.”

“You got me there,” Kathleen sipped her tea as she smiled into it.

“Have you gotten any sleep yet?”

“No.”

“Sweetie, you should get some sleep. Don’t make me worry about you.”

“I had stuff on my mind and couldn’t sleep quite yet. I tried to take a nap but it wasn’t happening.”

Tom gave her a stern look.

“I’ll go to sleep once you take off for work,” she responded.

Tom gave her the same stern look.

“I promise!” she answered, laughing at him.

“What’s so funny?” he asked.

“That serious look you gave me.”

“There’s something funny about my serious look?”

“You’re too silly to have a serious look.”

Tom gave her a slightly different serious look as if to say, there’s no such thing as “too silly.”

“It’s okay,” Kathleen replied, “I love silly.”

“I love you too,” Tom reciprocated.

Kathleen took a few sips of tea and Tom took a few sips of coffee between random lines of the random conversation that only two people in love would have. The type of conversation that could only be described as mind-numbingly inane (and at times, insane) to those not officially part of it. After about fifteen minutes of their back and forth Kathleen looked out the window.

“I think it’s almost time!” she said as she smiled.

“Perfect! I thought I’d have to leave for work and miss it.”

“There it goes. Just. Below. The horizon,” Kathleen uttered through her smile, looking out the window towards the setting sun.

“Which means,” Tom continued her sentence, “here it come peeking over those trees…”

Kathleen and Tom smiled at their setting and rising sun, respectively. She drank the last of her tea and smiled at Tom through the webcam. Tom’s eyes were still fixated at the sunlight streaming through the trees just outside his kitchen window. Kathleen cleared her throat to get his attention. He turned toward her and drank the rest of his coffee.

“I’m so glad we planned this,” she said.

“Me too.”

“It’s nice that I can enjoy stuff like this with you even though you’re on the other side of the planet.”

“Technically, I’m not exactly on the other side of the planet since the planet’s diameter at this latitude is--”

“You’re such a nerd.”

“You know you love me.”

She smiled at him without answering, knowing she didn’t have to.

“I love you too,” he responded. “I should get going if I don’t want to be late to work again. This was fun we should plan this again sometime.”

“We really should,” she replied as he got up. “Hey! Tom! Wait!”

Tom bent over towards the webcam.

“What? I’m in a hurry!”

“Your tie. It’s a bit crooked, love.”

“Better?” Tom asked.

“Perfect,” Kathleen answered.

They blew kisses into their webcam before shutting off their computers. Tom grabbed his coat, keys, and suitcase full of files that he’d see more than enough of for the next eight hours and headed out of his apartment. Kathleen snuggled close in her bathrobe and put away her mug, teaspoon, and bear shaped bottle of honey. She tossed the squeezed out lemon slice and headed to sleep just as she promised earlier. Each going through the motions of their otherwise bland lives in their own small section of this planet anticipating the next time the other would be online again.