Jessy_r - Experiment 5 lyrics

Exercise #6 (Taken from a visit to Panera) He sits back in his chair, knowing he's got all afternoon to eat this lunch and finish his coffee if he wants to. But as he leans forward to take a sip of his soup, he's quickly spouting figures to the woman in front of her. His wife of thirty years breaks a little smile as she watches his habit of getting a little dribble of soup in the corner of his mouth. 5 years ago, she told him to not be so messy. 15 years ago, she stopped caring and swiped it off with her thumb. “Can you believe this was only $1.99?” he exclaims, pointing a shaking finger at his pastry. “But you know what? I was reading Reader's Digest yesterday and…” he starts off. Her blue eyes coated by wrinkles glaze off as she turns her face to the window they sit next to. The café is starting to increase the buzz level of people and she looks down to take a bite of her salad while he excitedly goes on and on about the article on heart disease. The old couple has this routine every week, yet for the past four years, it feels like a new day everyday. With his mind going, she keeps him entertained by taking him to lunch, a nice walk on the path near their cottage, and then a nice dinner at home. Their Yorkie awaits her walk at home, but they sit and chat about the day, the past, and what's coming. “Did you see that woman that just walked by?” he asks, his eyes widening, “The things people wear these days.” He remembers, just a snippet, of a time, when ankles were all the rave among young soldiers like him. She's wearing practically nothing, he thought. Who's she trying to convince she's a girl? Heaven gracious. She smiles and says, “You know, I almost bought something like that the other day.” With the smallest wink, he cackles and coughs suddenly into his napkin, his lungs barely keeping up with him these days. “Imagine if we always did this,” he poses happily, his hand, worn by the wears, reaching across the small table to find hers. Her cheeks no longer warm at his touch, and she pats his hand with her own. “I know, my dear. But don't you worry. We will,” she promises, knowing well in an hour, he'll forget her name again. He takes another swig of his coffee and looks down at the newspaper, suddenly realizing he grabbed it himself when he ordered his food. With a quiet “Oh,” he glances down at the front page, pulling his gla**es out of his shirt pocket. She watches his eyes keep up with the words when suddenly his head pops out. “Ready to go, Margaret?” he asks, gathering his paper. He groans as he tries to stand. She takes a heavy breath, her own knees giving her pain today. But she smiles and nods. She gathers their mugs and plates, stifling the instinct to remind him that her name is Catherine.