, loud conversations, the pressure of saying the right thing at the right time, it all felt like

sauce. Dim lighting hung over each table, casting soft yellow pools across the room. The quiet clinking of glas

s wrapped around a glass of water he hadn't touched in several mi

f her eyes. She had the kind of easy smile that suggested she was used to conversations flowing naturally.

ce between them stretched again. Tim stared down at his plate of half-eaten pasta. Hi

. He opened his mouth. "Uh..." Nothing came

y do for fun?" The questi

thoughts scattered instantly, like papers blown o

g. I stay home. I play video games

uld already imagine how it would sound spoken out loud.

e of eve

wer floated between them like

olitely. Another

. Not in a rude way-more like someone checking the time without looking directly at their w

stions. But eventually the conversation always reached this point where he was expec

h... like It

ld take them back. They were sitting in an Italian re

ded awkwardly. "Me t

ickly. Claire glanced toward the front door, then back at him. Sh

she said after a moment. There it was. The polite

smiled apologetically. "

Chairs scraped softly against the floor as they stepped away from the table. Tim walked her t

across the pavement. Claire adjusted the strap o

g whether a hug would be appropriate. Then she

d his hands into his jacket pockets and began the quiet walk home. The night air was cool and calm, a light breeze movi

mind replaying the evening like a bad recording he c

, the familiar feeling had already settled in

looked up at him with mild annoyance, clearly unimpressed that dinne

softly, "that went

oud, demanding meow. "Yeah

her quiet evening, and another failed attempt at something normal. Eventually the familiar rhythm of his

e apartment walls, thunder began