Reasons for nothing

In fifteen minutes, she will be finished her meal. She will stand up and speak to the man who has been staring at her across the table. She will answer the last of the questions he has been avoiding asking all evening. She can hear question marks crackling like AM radio reception fuzzing in a thunderstorm. She is certain he has never once listened to AM radio, so she will not use the analogy when she delivers the sentences she is sculpting. He won’t understand anyway. Or he will pretend he doesn’t understand to perhaps elicit an understanding hand on his arm. Perhaps she will place a condescending kiss on his cheek. Though her touch, any touch, will change the meaning of her words in ways she both does and doesn’t intend. Until then, she is wondering why she ordered coffee with her dessert instead of sharing a pot of tea.