You and I are at the table at the restaurant when the new girl calls you.
"I'm sorry. I've got to take this - you know, to make plans."
I listen to you ask polite questions about her week. I push my food around my plate. Take another bite.
"Sounds like you had a pretty good time. What time did you get home?"
He pauses, smiling, looking at me absently.
"Oh", he laughs. "So your cats were getting you back?"
'Cats', I mouthed at him, eyebrows raised. I couldn't help myself.
'Stop', he mouthed back in mock anger, shoving me lightly at the shoulder.
I smiled at our private joke but then realized he'd moved on with the conversation and I was alone at the table again.
I looked out the window at the families and their dogs and the Saturday afternoon traffic.