It had been that kind of a day,
waiting tables at the Ten Mile Café.
Her feet ached from walking the treadmill
between the kitchen and dining room.
Almost no one was satisfied
with their food or the service.
The tips were like rare flowers
she gathered among the dirty plates,
crumpled napkins and breadcrumbs.
When she got home,
Rosie kicked off her shoes
and got into her robe.
As she watched her dinner
turning on the microwave carousel,
the Siamese cat rubbed against her legs,
his tail vibrating with excitement
after a long day alone.
She set the table with two place mats,
one for Max and another for her.
The cat sat patiently by his place mat
eyeing a stainless steel bowl of Friskies
on the kitchen counter.
When the microwave sounded its tone
she spooned the left over lasagna
onto a china plate
and poured a glass of Chianti
.
She put their dinners on the table
and lit two candles.
But before she had even blown out the match,
Max was already licking her lasagna.
She sat down and took a sip of her wine.
It had been that kind of a day
waiting tables