The door was heavy as it creaked opened, revealing two figures.
One lead. He carried a wave of boldness. The other followed, her eyes focused upon the ground.
Strength contrasted fragility. Frustration contrasted fear.
He eyed the ageing menu hanging behind the counter while she looked around.
A flickering sign hung from the ceiling, displaying the meal of the day and various other greasy foods. Hamburgers, Beef-burgers, fish burgers, the list continued.
His eyes were locked upon the menu. She visited the bathroom and, once the door had shut, glanced at the mirror.
The reflection symbolised far more than a recent bruise, it symbolised the mistake she had made. It symbolised the wrong words at the wrong time. It symbolised one mans dissatisfaction with the world and his frustration escaping, again and again. Each time harder, each time more prominent. She run her thin fingers over her face and let the soreness rush over her. The world stood still as she stared at the violet trophy she had spent so much time trying to conceal. There was no reason to leave.
The bathroom was a forgettable, dimly lit, space. Nothing about it, except perhaps its own forgettability, was memorable. A small, foggy window was the only other exit to the outside reality.
She could feel his small, sharp eyes watching her as she reappeared, the bathroom door closing timidly behind her.
He was a heavy man with a receding hairline and lined face.
The waiter asked what they wanted.
He replied by raising his hand and pointing at one of the many options.
He sat down. She followed.
