Infliction

3

I narrow my eyes at her in confusion. She visibly frowns and shakes her head as if to clear her thoughts before rephrasing her question.

"When is your flight, if you don't mind me asking?"

Oh. Oh. "I don't mind at all. We weren't whispering anyway," I chuckle lightly. "My flight's on Friday."

She smiles broadly, putting her perfectly white teeth on display. One would easily mistake her for a toothpaste model. And to think I would know how that ironic situation feels like...

She's wearing black skinny jeans with a navy blue long sleeved blouse. She finished off with black pumps that tie around her ankles. She shifts uncomfortably in her seat as she notices that I'm checking her out.

"I'm sorry, it's just that," I struggle to find the right words, "you don't seem like you belong in such an area."

"I didn't get the memo that clearly stated how one should dress in order to 'belong in such an area'."

"I'm sorry, once again-" I was cut off by her laughter. And not the well-tamed disciplined one that became a stereotype for all ladies to practice, but a real one. One that's loud and cute and makes the next person feel light.

"Relax, I'm just kidding," she says dramatically and adds a wink.

"You enjoy repeating what people say?"

"Nope," she takes a sip of her drink. "Just what you say. And yes, you're right, I don't belong in such an area. My friend told me we were going out but she didn't say where to."

"Where is she then?"

"Around." Again with the weird answers. She turns her body to scan the dance floor. "She'll come find me here, so she said."

"Are you from around this place?"

She hesitates to answer at first, glancing at the counter before meeting my eyes again.

"No, I'm also from New York. I just came here to visit my mom."

I might be stepping on personal grounds, but it's interesting that maybe, just maybe, her background might be like mine.

"I'm guessing your parents are divorced?"

"They were never married," she says sadly, trying to disguise her discomfort. Before I could drop the subject, she looks up and gives me a small smile. "How about yours?"

"Divorced. Seven years now. Do you have any siblings?"

"Only child," she makes the peace sign with her fingers. "You?"

"Too."

"Fourth thing we have in common," she smiles. I raise my eyebrow in question.

"What are the first three?"

She rests her elbow on the counter and moves closer. I mirror her actions and watch her roll her eyes while a smile dances on her perfectly symmetrical face.

"One, we're both wearing black jeans. Two, we're from New York and three, we're both leaving for the City on Friday." I smile at that and she looks down, seemingly shy under my stare. "They aren't really things we have in common," she mutters quickly.

"Didn't know you were so observant and attentive," I poke her ribs, making her jump. "What time's your flight?"

"Seven a.m. Who in their right mind would schedule a flight that early?" she asks in an upset tone and I burst out laughing and pat her hand reassuringly.

"You do know we have two options, right?"

"Which are?"

"We can either sleep at the airport on Thursday evening or arrive supper early on Friday."