Lies

"I don't miss you, if that's worth anything." He looks up from his drink to catch a reaction.

She's staring into her empty mug, expressionless.

"I just miss not being lonely."

The waitress walks up with a pot off decaf and offers a refill.

"No, thank you," she says, looking up. The light is dim, but her eyes flash a sadness. The waitress nods and looks away.

"I guess I just miss having someone--"

"I don't miss you either," she interrupts.

"Okay," he says quickly.

Silence.

"Do you smoke yet?" he asks reaching for cigarettes.

"No," she says. "Not yet."

He lights up and looks around. "Nice night."

"It's raining."

"I like the rain."

"I don't."

Silence.

"Well." He coughs. "It's been great seeing you."

"Definitely. Let's do this again sometime."

He blows a cloud of smoke to his side and frowns. "Are you mad at me?"

"No." She looks around and sighs. "This is just... weird."

"You," he mutters. "Called me."

"I know. Sorry."

"Why are you sorry?"

"I don't know. I guess I just figured you'd be over me by now."

"Why, that's awfully presumptuous."

"It. It. I meant it. Us. I figured you'd be over it by now."

"I said I don't miss you anymore."

"You were lying."

"So were you."

"No I wasn't."

"Then why call me?"

"I thought--"

"Fuck you."

Silence.

The waitress walks up with the check. "Here's your check. Pay whenever you're ready." She sets it on the table and walks off.

"You were lying," he says, picking up the bill.

"I have to go." She stands up and grabs her coat off the back of her chair. "Thank you for dinner."

"My pleasure."

She watches him as he reaches for his wallet. He looks up at her and smiles an ugly, painful smile.

She looks back.

They look at each other for a long moment and she leaves.

He waits until she is gone and stands up. He leaves a small tip and presses his cigarette into the ashtray before walking out into the rain.