We went to a café, sat down at a table, made an order. Then I noticed that the waitress serving us was vaguely familiar, but unfriendly. She threw the menu and talked to me rudely. So, I asked her, “Do we know each other?” Her expression flickered for only a moment before she quickly looked away, shrugging with an air of indifference. My husband, seated across from me, raised an eyebrow at the exchange but said nothing. I tried to brush it off, convincing myself she was having a bad day, but something about her tone felt pointed—personal. There was a heaviness in her stare, a kind of resentment that didn’t make sense. As she walked away, the familiarity nagged me, like recognizing a song but forgetting the lyrics. I sipped my water, trying to place her face, but the memory stayed just beyond reach.Continue reading…
