I will try to find the traces of a growing up we almost but never quite shared in the crevices of the silverware and the gaps between the gulps. And ponder over dessert on how some distances are always too long even between chairs at the same table.
Smile grimace grin awkward-hug smile. Some last wisecrack from yours truly like the final flourish before a flicked cigarette stub sizzles in a roadside puddle. Then the walk back home. The walk back home. And the smiles the next day.