“Help me find what I like?” She watches me with a thoughtfulness so profound it’s hard to comprehend. Like she sees something in me, understands me in a way I don’t even understand myself. She’s an old soul. That much is clear. I’m afraid that if she looks too closely, she’ll realize I’m shallow and have nothing to offer, that if she sees the real me, she’ll pull back and say good night. So I’m pleasantly surprised when she instead settles back on her stool and motions to the menu that’s been placed in front of me. “Well, what are we trying?”
