Chinese Dinner

Lazy raindrops half-heartedly washed the pavements. The rush hour traffic was all shiny from the drizzle. Yellow head lights, like cat eyes in the dark, punctured the night time. Eric quickly crossed the street, breaking into a run as the lights started to change. He just made it to the curb when he felt the bottom of his trousers soaked as a car drove through a puddle right beside him.

Muttering to himself and shaking his legs about, he hastened to the side street that faced the underground. In his hand was a piece of paper with his name and number on, doubly folded and now slightly wet. A white lantern halfway down the street swung slowly in the wind. The rest of the street was dark and quiet. Apart from the Chinese restaurant and a dry cleaner’s, the rest of the buildings were residential.

A few metres from his target, and he almost turned around. It had all started a week ago. On his way home one evening, he had impulsively stopped by for some Chinese. On being told that a take-away service was not available, he had then found himself sitting at one of only two occupied tables. Throughout the meal, he thought he kept catching the waitress looking at him. When he had paid and was leaving, he had felt her almond eyes burning into his back. He had turned round at the door and she had smiled and waved at him.

The rest of the week, he played the scene over and over again in his mind. Each time he debated with himself.
“She was probably just pleased that someone had come in on a quiet night,” one part of him said.
“But there was another table with two people and she still seemed to pay more attention to mine,” another part of him argued.

As he made it to the entrance, he almost jumped out of skin as two policemen in uniform stepped out from within. He panicked and walked right on, wondering why he felt nervous. Three doors down, he turned round and saw that the police were now standing guard in front of the restaurant.

He was seized with a burning curiosity. Had something happened to the waitress? Was the restaurant a cover for some devious activity? What would happen if he were to innocently wander back and attempt to go in?

He walked round the block and then got onto the underground. The next day, on his way home, he stopped by the restaurant, his pulse quickening as he approached.
“Hi, I ate here the other day,” he started to say.
“Did you forget something?” the waitress asked.
“No, I just wanted to give you this,” he stuttered.
“What is it?” she asked, opening out the note.
“It’s my name and number should you fancy a drink one day,” he replied, his face reddening.
“Thank you, Eric. My name is Lin Wei,” she extended her hand.

He shook it, smiled and walked away a little too fast. At the entrance, he pulled the door when it said PUSH. He felt flustered. Then he was outside in the cool, night air.