AcmeShorts

Mary walked into the restaurant with a flourish. Her scarf got caught in the door hinge and pulled tight as she stepped down causing her to choke and trip down the stairs.

Maxwell was waiting at the bar. "Christ you're late," he said. "It's boiling in here."

"Take your hat off," she replied.

Max signalled the waiter and paid his tab. "You want cozy or action?" He asked, indicating a booth in back, then a circular table in the center of the restaurant.

Mary shrugged. "It doesn't matter."

"No, no, no. I'm not falling for that one," said Max.

"I don't have a preference," Mary insisted.

Maxwell's throat swelled. He pressed his hand onto the table, working his thumb against the wood grain. The rough texture gave him comfort. He swallowed, taking in air.

"Here's a table's in the middle of the room," he said. "Waiter comes by, he bumps the chair, you spill yer wine." Max sat down at that point for emphasis. "Do you see?" he implored, gesturing to the inadequate space between the back of his chair and the chair behind. "Do you see how this could not possibly work out?"

"I don't drink wine," Mary replied.