Creative Non-Fiction Short Stories. :) Travel, Oldsters, Love, and Compassion.
In the Italian restaurant overlooking a busy bus station and the remarkable Hungarian parliament building, three women exclaim, “Hotspot? Hotspot?” in unison. The waiter gives them the password and they double-check it loudly and slowly. When my friends and I glance over, the women give us haughty looks and hold up their phones as shields from curious neighboring tables of kids-these-days (My friends and I take this as a compliment).
The ladies all have gray hair with various wisps of black or brown. They took the booth while their male companions took the chairs. The ladies clutch their smartphones under their fingernails. There is a distinction when it comes to the three pairs of reading glasses–one set of frames is black, one set is red, and another has hers hanging from a chain around her neck. Nonetheless, they are hunting for something, checking in at their location, or planning to snap photos of their dishes. The men chat and look at the menus. The waiter buzzes around and interrupts the stares into their screens so he can take drink orders. Yet, the women are busily tapping away, highly entertained, texting in a labored fashion, demonstrating how they remain hip, and how they have their priorities straight.