PIZZA

When we walked into the cafe he was wearing a heavy waterproof coat and sitting at the head of a table surrounded by men I didn't know who, like him, were eating pizza with their hands.
He looked up and spoke to my companion.
‘You want something to eat?’ he asked.
She reached out took the slice he offered. He didn’t look at me anytime we were there.
Earlier, I’d tried phoning to ask if he was available on Saturday but we hadn’t managed to speak. Now there he was sitting in front of me. But I felt odd and was glad he didn’t look because, if he had, he might’ve noticed my discomfort.
We stood watching them eat until she turned to me and said, ‘I think we’d better go, there’s nothing more for us here.’
I agreed and, without another word between us, we went through the door we’d come in. Once outside she took a last bite of pizza and threw what was left away.