I am currently ridiculously busy getting certified for some tech work. I haven't finished anything worth posting yet. Here's a preview of a short story I am writing, just because I abhor the idea of not posting anything for a week.
“Abraham and Zoe,” she mused as she entered the restaurant’s vestibule, “We’re the beginning and end of a naming dictionary.”
Abraham smiled, and fought the urge to point out that the more likely names to appear at the ends of naming dictionary were Aaron and Zykela, because that was a thing that he did that people did not like. Instead, he just walked in behind her. Showing no effort at all, he quickly moved to opened the door to the restaurant proper for her. Zoe came to an immediate halt as she left the establishment’s vestibule.
Nearly every inch of every wall was covered in art. Pantings, sculptures, vases, and any number of other art pieces were tightly packed onto the restaurant’s walls. A plethora of chandeliers ran across the ceiling.
“Dude,” she mused. “It’s like my gramma decorated this place.”
“Everything in here is an antique,” Abraham explained. “Well, everything on the walls. I imagine most of the furniture doesn’t qualify yet.”
Zoe beamed as she looked at the ceiling. “Wow. The electric bill for this place must be through the roof.”
The night’s hostess, a chubby young college student with curly brown hair, chimed in from behind, “It’s a closely guarded secret.” Startled, Zoe put a hand to her chest and took in a deep breath. The hostess cringed. “Sorry.”
“No harm done,” Zoe returned.
“Just the two of you, tonight?”
“Yes,” Abraham confirmed. “Where do we get the best view?”
“Oh, it’s all good, but my favorite table is open if you want it.” The hostess grinned.
“We’ll take it,” Abraham said. He and Zoe followed her to one of the restaurant’s dining rooms, where she seated them in a wooden booth under what looked like a Tiffany lamp. An art nouveau bust of a beautiful woman rested on a small shelf and protruded a few inches over the table. The booth itself was incredibly tall and made entirely of stained wood. Abraham took Zoe’s jacket. As she sat down, the back of the booth loomed over her, making her seem tiny in comparison.
Abraham hung up Zoe’s jacket on a coat hook on the end of the booth, along with his. He turned to the hostess. “Is this really your favorite table, or is that just something you say to everyone?”
The hostess smiled and raised an eyebrow. “Another closely guarded secret.” She placed two menus on the table and left the couple to themselves.