Every year on this day she makes her pilgrimage.
She rises early, showers and puts on the same outfit: a red
dress and heels. It’s been so long that
the shoes are scuffed and one of the heels is getting wobbly but they aren’t
unwearable yet. If the weather is cool, she'll bring a light cardigan. You never know
what the weather might be like in April, even from one hour to the next.
She gets in her car and drives across town. It’s a different car now. The car she had then was big and pretty. The car she drives now is small and
practical. It’s harder to get out of the
new car looking elegant, especially with heels on, since it’s so low to the
ground. But as long as she can be somewhat
graceful about it, it’s not too bad. At
least she always wears panties, so she doesn't have to worry about unintentionally
flashing her bits to unsuspecting passersby.
She arrives punctually and takes a minute
to compose herself, checking her hair and her makeup in the rear-view
mirror. It’s not like it could have
gotten messed up during the half-hour drive but she checks anyways.
She deftly gets out of the car and crosses the parking
lot. The sun is shining today and there’s
a nice breeze. If there was a patio, she’d
probably sit outside but there isn’t one so she’ll be inside amongst the aromas
and the not-quite-loud-enough music that ends up being nothing more than a
tinny rattle piped through the speakers, providing a different ambience than
intended.
As she approaches the door, she takes a deep breath and
arranges what she hopes is a pleasant smile on her face. She is greeted by a similar smile.
“Table for one?”
This was written for Mostly Fiction Monday. What's that,
you ask? It's a little something Stranger and Me cooked up. You can find
the story here. Today's post was inspired by the prompt Unresolved.
