I noticed them as I was picking up my second slice of pizza. They were in a booth against the wall opposite mine, and they were very engaged in conversation. He wore a baseball cap and stared at the table top. She twirled her long, blond hair and chomped on a piece of gum. She smiled with only one side of her face as she stared into his eyes.
He finally looked up from the table and met her eyes. His eyebrows bunched up in the middle. Slowly, very slowly, he put words to his thoughts. Her face went slack. Her smile disappeared into the flesh of her face. Her stare went blank.
He relieved his eyebrows as he adjusted the bill of his cap and gazed toward the door. She grabbed his chin and pulled his face around to meet hers. Her voice raised, and she slapped him across the face. He grabbed her wrist and flung it back toward her. Now his voice grew louder, and he stabbed his finger through the air in her direction, his words echoing with each jab of his finger.
She stood up now, putting her fists on the tabletop and leaning toward him. Her lips quivered.
He was exiting the booth, meeting her on her own grounds. They stood and shouted. She dominated the war, and he stood in fury, taking the thrashing. His mouth open but silent, he looked around the room again, uttered a few simple words, and sat back down in the booth. She grew louder still, grabbed the salt shaker, and smashed it loudly on the table until the bottom shattered; salt scattered across the table and floor. Grabbing her purse, she stormed from the café, shouting at him as she went. She stopped at the doorway and turned around. With her face now calm yet somehow still livid, she lowered her gaze to his eyes and shot one last, quiet thought his way. She skirted out the door. He rested his arms on the table and stared at nothing.