The restaurant was filling up and I was at a table alone.
I pushed the spent bowl of lemon chicken soup away from me and let the back of the chair hold me.
My eye began drawing itself itself to the bud vase that had been in front of me the whole time.
One by one, I took the small nosegay of flowers out of their vase, letting go to a moment, arranging in a different way the flowers on the bare wood table.
The last piece I removed from the vase was a flower I had not noticed at all when I started.
She was not the arrangement's focal point, the diva, but something sweet and loose, crumbling apart right in front of me.
I wanted to remember all of them, but especially this sweet nothing, so I took their photos with my phone.
When I pulled back, away from the moment and the table, I realized there were several customers watching me.
My face drew hot and flushed, and I left as quickly as I could.