Tight lips and Pockets

by TheApatheticEnthusiast

Every time I see them they are arguing about money, which makes me wonder why 
they bother going out at all. I have been their waitress at three different 
restaurants now and not once have they given me any sign of recognition. 
I try and relax the tension, one meal at a time, as any good waitress should, 
but they never let up. Once they even turned on me together, it was the chefs 
fault but at least they were united.
I see them on my days off sometimes, just around town. Her walking ahead, him 
pushing his wheel chair. I guess they don’t live too far. One day I saw them 
coming back from the beach, with six kids in toe. Three with mocha skin like 
hers, and three with freckles and long faces like his. They skipped along the 
side walk in pairs, matching in ages, laughing and screaming about ice cream. 
The couple charged on behind unsmiling, 
                                  hands clenched, 
                                             laden with shoes and wet towels.

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