The little old man settles into the booth with his wife. He sits on the same side with her, though the waitress set the menu on the left, expecting them to take places across from each other. Yet, they are perched close, so she slides over the menu and re-arranges the silverware without any fuss.
He looks around at the other tables, mostly vacant at this time in the afternoon. “Well, now I’m disappointed. I thought this was a Tap-Dance place.”
His wife exhales a laugh and squeezes his arm as he elaborates. “Yes, can you tap dance? A Tap-Dance Bar?”
“Oh, no, it’s a Tapas bar. It means…”
His wife intervenes, “He’s teasing you, dear. We’ve been here before.”
He grins over at his beloved, “I might have gotten her and the bartender to dance like Fred and Ginger, don’t spoil the joke in the middle.”
“Who me? Never.” She raises an eyebrow devilishly and he laughs. They have their their own rapport. The waitress gives them a few minutes to decide.
The couple stays shoulder to shoulder, often leaning to kiss the other on the cheek. Their food is delayed and they don’t mind. They find the other sufficient, they find the other delightful. After lunch, he gets up and she follows. At their full heights they identical in size–a perfect match.
He takes her hand and leads her to the door, like Fred and Ginger and once upon a time.