Sunflower
The waitress is so pretty.
I look like shit and the place is quite fancy with the pink lit up lighting and flowers winding around the walls. It's basically a photography set and I'm here for it.
We wait seated next to 2 women with wine. Me, k and j. I order a sagres because it's what the boyfriend was so eager for me to try when we first got here.
My mouth is heavy when it hits my tongue.
And so we chat until we are seated properly. About the bf, about exes, about pizza. We are given menus and the choices are overwhelming.
I tell them I'm going to order carbonara pizza as it comes with an egg and I have never had this.
K says this a bold choice but thinks that all pizza bases should remain with tomato sauce, anchovies and olives.
The pretty waitress takes us to our table.
She has sunflowers on her skirt.
I think about the sunflowers we grew, the year we grew the corn. I can see them growing as high as the shed, giant yellow petals cheering up the garden.
My pizza arrives and the egg is delicious. I dip my pizza slices into the egg like fancy soldiers.
I order another beer.
There isn't enough alcohol in the world for me right now.
We talk about physics and where we think the dead go. I do not understand how I am supposed to be in public right now.
I do not understand how death is the only thing we know for a certainty but we cannot handle it.
We spill out onto the pavement and the heat sticks to me like honey. The moon is full and rising over the building, I read the Portuguese signs and listen to the silence.
I think about the bf and catface being here, I think about them dying here.
I want to drink until I can't think such things anymore.