Author S. K. Nicholas

After reaching for my forearm he sprinkles salt all over it. The salt doesn’t stick but falls over the sides of my arm on to the table. I ordered french fries with bbq and ranch on the side. He ordered beer and claimed he wasn’t hungry. I remove my arm from the table and study the salt outline left behind. It looks like a path my eyes cross to make something of it but then he sweeps it all off the table. I couldn’t believe it. Why waste a perfectly sound moment. If the fries weren’t on the way I’d throw a fit. But I was too tired and hungry to let him get a rise outta me. I just want my fries. He looks toward the bar and I know he just wants his beer. So we sit quietly and I stare at the salt shaker trying to replay…