You'll Want the Corner Side
The booth did not change. Something else did.
I fit fine
“You’re going to want the corner side.” He said it before she sat down. “I fit fine.” “I know you do.”
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Fixed bench. Narrow table. The kind bolted to the floor of a building that decided a long time ago how big a person gets to be. Her sister came for lunch in March, and that was the one time anybody said it out loud.
Every stage of the sequence
- I fit fine. “You’re going to want the corner side.” He said it before she sat down. “I fit fine.” “I know you do.”
- The corner side. “She’s not the size she was at Christmas,” her sister said, across her. He was refilling her glass while she said it.
The table did not stop her. The table just stopped.