-8-
and again

I threw my black jacket on the chair by the kitchen table, loosened my tie and turned on the television; merely as a moving wallpaper in my apartment. Whilst contemplating what to have for dinner, I gazed into my scarcely filled refrigerator. I took out what first hit my eye. The defrosting of the pre-cooked fish package took just under a minute and instantly started to smell like dinner. Not quite the smell of fresh ocean-fish, but I'd gotten used to it. The genuine smell was something we would only know from stories if it hadn't been for the precious black market. If only the cheap dinner would look like food, it might be more appealing to eat and I wouldn't have seen this as a necessity. When I took the first bite it struck me I had made dinner reservations at Tom's. I dropped my knife and put on my jacket. I had been alone for too long, I figured. Everything that I didn't write down, I was bound to forget.
I threw my black jacket on the chair by the kitchen table, loosened my tie and turned on the television; merely as a moving wallpaper in my apartment. Whilst contemplating what to have for dinner, I gazed into my scarcely filled refrigerator. I took out what first hit my eye. The defrosting of the pre-cooked fish package took just under a minute and instantly started to smell like dinner. Not quite the smell of fresh ocean-fish, but I'd gotten used to it. The genuine smell was something we would only know from stories if it hadn't been for the precious black market. If only the cheap dinner would look like food, it might be more appealing to eat and I wouldn't have seen this as a necessity. When I took the first bite it struck me I had made dinner reservations at Tom's. I dropped my knife and put on my jacket. I had been alone for too long, I figured. Everything that I didn't write down, I was bound to forget. "Don't expect, just regret", read the cover of the menu in bright silver printing. In that minute, it seemed I saw myself. It's typical how you read everything that's printed, always when you're waiting. Every night you're reading the thoughts of the past day, waiting to wake up. Telling yourself it was a dream and wondering for the reason. Would it be an issue, when a dream lied to me? Moreover, would it still be a lie if we hadn't finished the story? Did the screaming voice matter when the sun had come up? I got so used to eating my dinner with a knife that it was awkward to eat my salad with a fork. Everyone tried so hard not to be alone all their lives, yet it made me feel quite at ease actually. "Good evening, sir", spoke a distinct male voice. "Your order, sir". The skinny man in his mid twenties walked rapidly away from my table, only leaving two silver plaques, the size of a wallet. "Sir, I haven't ordered...", I tried, raising my arm. But the obscure figure had vanished from my sight already. Flipping the aluminium card around in my hand, the reflection of the light hit the eyes of a girl sitting across the dim-lit restaurant. She looked up from the dinner she was eating and the glare from her large brown eyes hit mine. Instantly my stomach turned and I was twelve years old again. The frame'd got stuck except for the constant background noise. A middle-aged man turned his head to see what the girl was staring at. In a flash, I saw letters appearing on his forehead, a brightly glowing red as if they were carved into his skin. PERVERTED. "And branded for life", my mind added to that. A courteous nod made for him to turn his head back. "Everything's been paid for, sir", sounded the voice of a waiter, "choose anything you'd like, dinner is on the house". In that case, I decided, I'd stray from my usual dinner and go for a fancier choice.