A T-Bone Steak and a Smile

It’s the first day of that time of the month. I hate to be a damsel in distress but I need a little rescue from commuting because of my wobbly knees, resident migraine, and sore muscles.

You picked me up a little late than the time we’ve agreed. I was already dying in hunger and pain. I already lost my appetite upon our arrival at the steak house. You ordered for me since I was too preoccupied with gulping the entire glass of water. When the food arrived, you asked the server to put mine in front of you. I just looked at you suspiciously. I would have wanted to shove the whole chunk of steak in my mouth, but you took the fork and the knife and cut it down into smaller and smaller pieces. I guess you remembered my left hand hasn’t recovered yet from my previous injury. You moved it to my side of the table and handed me the fork and knife.

We had a silent dinner. We exchanged no words and rarely glanced at each other. Seems to me, we looked at each’s plates more than each’s faces. Until I took the steak with my hands and nibbled until the bones were clean and neat. You laughed. I looked at you mockingly and laughed too.

Guess you just know what to do when I’m getting hormonal and all – good food, a decent laugh, and a little mush.

You held my hand on the way out. You took me home and kissed me good night.


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