Thirty Six

Beer bottles bubbled, beefy burgers bled. Colored candles flickered, flinging lights on her head. The date was slow and quiet, the waitress barely there, shiny globs of ketchup sometimes got in her hair. Sharing some sudden smiles with meat in their teeth, the fact it didn’t matter struck him as pretty neat. Their booth blazed as warm as the sunshine seldom seen in their sad Chicago winter, feeling cramped and in between.