At lunch today

For lunch today I was seeking a peaceful, reflective setting with some soul and something captivating to gaze upon. As i work in the Xurbia of the midwest, this is almost unobtainable so I opted for the deli down the street.

I sat in the corner of the corner table with 3 other tables in my section. Slowly, each filled with a couple. The first was two business men wearing loafers and khakis, with blue button up shirts. The noisy one was spouting on about the bad business decisions that someone in the company by the name of Curt had made. Or maybe it was Curt that was going to finally straighten things out. Either way, this conversation continued to catch my attention even when i tried to focus away, due to the audio que. The 30-something noisy one was opinionated seemed to enjoy his own voice and I immediately labeled him as someone i would avoid in the office; weasely. He was speaking to a peer of equal rank but slightly older. He looked more distinguished, with some grey hair, and seemed more reflective and objective, but agreeable enough to keep the conversation moving. I had seen this situation play out in my own life too many times to be interested.

At the second table was a man and a woman, early to mid 30's, with sexual tension. She was a natural red-head with long, slightly curly hair wearing jeans and red flannel. She was naturally good looking but gave the impression of having been raised on a farm or maybe was a tom boy growing up, since her looks were almost entirely a result of good luck and he was way out of his league. He looked and sounded generic; khakis and tennis shoes, a zip up fleece and cookie-cutter haircut. He was slim and unathletic and mostly quiet while she was an engaging, full-bodied speaker. I'm pretty sure he knew he was out-classes too, as he spent the lunch with one hand on his drink and one hand in his pocket (while sitting down!) perhaps constantly searching for his next sentence fragment. They spoke of the other night in the bar, perhaps when the met? I think friends of friends. In the light of day he seemed to offer little, mostly sitting back, staring straight ahead while she was leaning forward and swaying in her chair with the inflection in her stories.

The third table was an older man with an early middle-aged woman. A father and Daughter, I think, or maybe even Grandfather. The old man looked old, weathered, grey and wrinkled. She was considerably younger, but still had his resemblance. They were catching up, but for maybe just a week's time; maybe this was a weekly lunch date? He was intriguingly vibrant for what appeared to be his age. It seems like most people (sometimes myself included, though not on purpose) talk to seniors with a slow and slightly condescending voice but she was almost absent of that (though she did speak a *little* slower and more staccato than seemed natural, she didn't have to dumb-down her vocabulary). They talked about so-and-so's new job and the overtime she wasn't receiving and what's-her-name's failed search through the obituaries for a lost friend. Throughout the conversation I was intrigued by how quickly his mind worked and hoped the same for myself in 60 years.