witty-remark's Diaryland Diary

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"You aren't a force to be reckoned with."

I lower my head and squint incredulously in response to this abrupt assessment.

In the cafe, a busy rhythm of chatter ripples around us as you deliberate over what to say next. You lick your lips and smile self-assuredly before continuing.

"What I mean is...," your lips curling up in anticipation of a chuckle "...people don't realize you're a force to begin with."

I remain silent, prompting you to elaborate.

"They think you're small, and cute, and sweet. And you are. Most of the time. But you're also intense, and dark, and mean. You can be so mean. You know that and I know that."

I try to suppress a reaction and look down to stir my tea.

"You aren't mean often. Very rarely, in fact. But Lord have mercy on the person that brings it out of you."

I drink my tea in an overdrawn sip.

"Can I try some of your tart?" you ask.

I smile and push it towards you; "By all means."

12:10 p.m. - Tuesday, Feb. 08, 2011

Then - Now