A woman is sitting outside in a restaurant on a bright Spring Mediterranean afternoon. She takes a casual look at the bilingual menu. Just then a waiter appears (we see him from waist down) and asks her in not so polite manner what she wants in Spanish. When she doesn't respond for a few seconds, he switches to English and asks her where she's from. "From Malta", she lies. He makes a familiar, albeit superficial, comment on how crowded Malta is for its size. He then asks her what she would like. "Paella", she says, struggling to mask her accent. He doesn't seem to notice it. He says they only serve paella for two - no single portions are available. Taken aback, she looks around the rest of the patrons in the restaurant - all couples. Tears begin to stream down her face. She gets up, apologises profusely in broken English and walks away.
If there ever is a better way to show when the reality sinks in on somebody's mortal loss, I would like to see it.
