There was a sharp, ringing sound as she set her glass of red wine down on the table. It was half full with lipstick marks all around the edges, her soft, bare hands elegantly placed on the deep, crimson tablecloth. It was made of smooth velvet fabric. The drink swooshed around slowly, like waves in the ocean, urging to overflow and give rise to a vast tsunami around the surface. 

A man dressed in all black clothing walked up to her. “Would you like to place your order, ma'am?”, he asked in a very luxurious tone. “Yes, I am ready.”, she replied, her voice sounding extravagant yet like a dainty whisper. Her order sounded miles long, with restrictions here and there for things she didn’t take a fancy to. After she was finished, the waiter walked to a place behind the counter, disappearing through the sheer black curtains. The woman continued to speak. She spoke for a very long time, clearly immersed in her thoughts. People all dressed up in suits and adorned dresses stared at her with confused looks. She was speaking to an old friend, someone very close to her. 

The man came back with plates full of food, steam rushing from the top, up to graze the ceiling. The woman ate politely, the gold-plated flatware resting in her fingers, her nails covered in glossy, black nail polish. 

Many plates still covered the table. The woman continued to eat and talk in a series of excited expressions, her words filling the entire restaurant. This woman, however, was alone.