Two pots of tea surround a solitary chicken’s foot and an abandoned yam cake. There are flakes of pastry scattered across the table, and the remains of a squid tentacle have slipped under the lazy-susan. The morning sun beats through the windows as I blow on my tea.

“And that’s when I administer the reach test” he says, between sips of watermelon juice. “Reach test? You what?” she’s incredulous, and I’m curious where this is going. “Well, the waiter will always put the bill on the table, right, he’s not going to give it straight to you. So, I wait a couple of seconds before going for my wallet. I dunno, three, five. That’s her chance, when I go for the wallet, I’m looking for a token reach. A hand heading for the purse, shuffling for the handbag, that’s all.” A pause, and she’s at him again, “And what does that tell you? What does that tell you about a girl?”

Enough, apparently.

Posted in Mwah on Wednesday May 20, 2009.

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