Friday, March 20, 2009

Dream: The National

I had been working late all week, this part was true. I called him to ask if he wanted to have dinner. He said, Yes, meet me at “The National.”

It was just a block up from the restaurant where I was. We were talking about meeting tomorrow. I got a bill from the waitress for $103, for charges unrelated to food. I asked her about The National. She smiled and nodded approvingly. They have live music there, she said. The chef stopped by and also praised it. He referred to it as a spot.

There was a pause in the conversation. The waitress looked me and up and down as though seeing me for the first time. The O of her mouth hung suspended as words arranged themselves, glass origami.

There is…an unspoken dress code, she said finally.

3 comments:

sesshu said...

I saw a former student up the sunny afternoon street, called to her and caught up, we chatted on the way to her tiny crowded apartment, time for dinner, she said, "soory there's no room, you can go with him," indicating some guy, but I said, "Thanks, I was leaving anyway."---awoke bemused: "She doesn't even have time to talk to you in your dreams."

Anonymous said...

I've been to The National. They serve wonderful cat hair chowder, and that shredded stuff that you put on salads.

QiDurian said...

Shredded stuff? The only shredded stuff I know is pork sung.