Scenes from a Belgian Cafe

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She was black, him white. She was young, late twenties at most, while he was much older, possibly early fifties maybe even older. She was stylish, elegant; fashionable but with class. He dressed for his age, corduroy trousers and cardigan. He did that thing where he had to lift up his glasses to read the meme she'd shown him on her phone, holding the phone at arm’s length to get a better view. They were indeed the odd couple, a dating site algorithm would not have matched them. I have to say I wondered if he’d hired her for the night but the desire that fizzed between them suggested this wasn’t a business arrangement, this was lust. Like Paul McCartney and Stevie Wonder, they sat together in perfect harmony, except they weren’t side by side they were opposite each other and they were in Dukes not on a keyboard, but you know what I mean.

He didn’t need to lift his glasses to gaze into her eyes. She stared back through her fringe that did little to hide her passion, her smile reserved for him but illuminating the room. Their hands clasped across the table in an embrace that their bodies would no doubt replicate later that evening.

He sat at a 45-degree angle to the table, allowing him a view of the room without being too rude to his dining companion. With his legs crossed he had the appearance of a lady riding side-saddle. He scanned the room with an air of disdain. It was clear he thought the assembled masses were not fit to touch the hem of his garment. Was he listening to his companion or had he merely learnt to time his nods and um hums by the tone of his friend’s voice? He picked at the bread like a fussy hen picking at corn while still keeping the room under his beady eye. He looked tired, slightly disappointed like somehow life had let him down, like it hadn’t lived up to his expectations. He sipped at his wine like it was a precious elixir that would bring back his youth, it wouldn’t.

They sat looking at each other with a tatty bunch of flowers in between them; cheap petrol station flowers fuelling the engine of love. He wore a gormless smile on his face and had a rainbow in his heart. He stared at the girl opposite him maybe a little bit too intently, maybe a little bit creepily but she didn’t see it, she just enjoyed the attention that her young beau was giving her. They didn’t talk much, they didn’t need to, their eyes made love across the table, caressing each other with their looks. They were love’s young dream, not tainted by baggage, still believing the lines of the songs they listened to that assured them in one way or another that all you need is love. The Waitress buzzed around them but he didn’t notice her curves. He only had eyes for the girl opposite him.