Any afternoon

There's not much time. She knows as well as he does. He hesitates to make eye contact. She stares intensely at him waiting for a response. A word, a smile, a frown, a sigh anything! He’s content with the awkward silence for now. She becomes frustrated, and soon her frustration will become her anger. He knows that behind her calm façade, she’s desperately trying to force the frustration out of her mind. But he waits, the right moment will come. These things require a significant amount of thought and a sense of timing. She gives up entirely on making eye contact with him. At this point any sign of life would suffice. She begins to fidget. He’s determined to get this right. It seems like a simple question. So why can’t he answer it. Out of the corner of his eye he can see that she has turned away from him completely. She watches the other cars, hoping to see a license plate from out of state. She clings to that thought, anything to escape this silence. He focuses on the stoplight… it turns green. They’re moving again. This is the third time they’ve been down this street in the last seven minutes. She can’t stand it any longer. “What’s it going to be? You’re going to have to make a decision.” She says, determined to get a response. He glances in her direction, takes a deep breath and lets out a long sigh. Why is this so difficult? He quickly tries to pick up the scattered pieces of his thoughts in hopes that he might deliver an answer. He knows he’s going to have to respond this time. He’s stalled long enough. She’s approaching her boiling point. He feels the tension rising and resolves to just get it over with. Just spit it out. “Well… “He says, stumbling into a short pause as they lock eyes. He begins to grin. She cracks a smile as she waits anxiously. “How about Italian?”