The Last Supper Before The End

The spinach in his teeth had been there for seven minutes. She counted each one, watching it flutter like a tiny green flag of surrender every time he laughed. He was laughing now, head thrown back, the gray in his hair catching the warm light of the restaurant they'd loved eight years ago, when they still remembered each other's coffee orders.

He hadn't looked at her once since sitting down. His iPhone lay between them like a third party at their relationship's funeral, its screen illuminating his face with cold blue light every time a new email arrived. Important work things, he'd said earlier, without specifying who had died or which merger required a Thursday evening sacrifice.

"You should check your mirror," she said instead of everything else.

He touched his chin, confused, then the spinach—finally dislodged. "Thanks. You're always looking out for me."

"Always."

The water in her glass had gone warm twenty minutes ago. She'd been swirling it, watching the condensation trace pale paths down the crystal, wishing she could evaporate just as quietly. Instead, she watched him across the table: the man who'd once driven three hours in a snowstorm to bring her medicine, now unable to look up from a glowing rectangle for five minutes.

"What?" he asked, noticing her gaze.

She considered telling him everything. That she'd found the receipts. That his secretary's hair color matched the blonde strand on his scarf last week. That she'd stopped loving him somewhere between the fourth promotion and the seventh missed anniversary.

"Your phone," she said instead. "It's buzzing."

He checked, face brightening. "Sorry, I have to take this." He stood up, phone already at his ear, walking toward the restaurant's exit as the call connected.

She signaled the waiter for the check. Outside, through the window, she watched him pace on the sidewalk, animated, alive in a way he hadn't been with her in years. Some people became human again when they thought nobody was watching.

She left the money on the table and walked out the back way, leaving her water glass half-full. Let him wonder why. Let him notice something missing for once.