Friday Date Night

Stanley arrived at seven. He brought a book.

Lena let him in. She was wearing a t-shirt and jeans.

-You brought it? she asked.

Stanley held up the paperback. The Stranger.

-Camus, he said.

-Light reading.

She sat on the couch. She patted the cushion next to her.

Stanley sat. The distance was gone, but the silence returned.

He opened his book. She opened hers.

Ten minutes passed.

The apartment was silent.

Stanley stared at the words.

He couldn't focus. He glanced at Lena. She was deep into it. Her eyes scanned the lines rapidly. She didn't look at him.

He wondered, was this it? Just sitting? He shifted. She didn't look up.

She’s bored, he thought to himself.

He turned a page mindlessly.

Twenty minutes.

He wanted to say something. Make a joke. Ask about her day. Anything.

He looked over at her again.

Her head was tipped forward. The book was resting on her chest. She was asleep.

Her head found his shoulder. He held his breath.

He looked down at the top of her head.

He looked back at his book and just sat there.