I chose what I chose, and I did what I did.
I ate dessert, a chocolate cake, as per request, shaped into a bountiful, beautiful heart, that Irene would insist until her last dying breath, cheeks brightly flushed, she had absolutely no hand in any of it whatsoever.
I gave a rather generous tip, and a little extra more for expenses to our personal waiter of the night for a service most splendid, thanking him in secret for his absolute for his swift efficiency in delivering a surprise cake on such very short notice.
I made for the exit, on Irene's insistence as she settled the rest of the bill, shutting me down instantly before I could even suggest the prospect of splitting, and on the way over, I walked past the bar…
He wasn't there.
All in all, it was an evening well enjoyed, an evening uninterrupted… and now the night was young, and the pitch-black sky up above twinkling vast and empty. So here's the question…
