Month: December 2016

Observations

Written by Brianna Cardenas, submission They walk in at the same time we do – a man and woman, they’re older. Their steps aren’t hurried, they seem like a patient pair. They remind me of my grandparents. He carries a baby girl, she’s at least one years old with a head full of dark brown hair. She wears dangly earrings like the ones I wasn’t allowed to wear until I was much older. She buries her head into his sweater rubbing her nose back and forth against the soft fleece. She smiles in a room full of apathetic stares; maybe she likes the smell of Old Spice. The waitress directs them to a table and then comes back for us. We take a booth against the window. The sky is a blinding white. I see them from the corner of my eye, they’re sitting at a table a few paces away. He sits across from the woman, the child in a highchair between the two. Across the room, in the corner, an old man sits …