An Exercise Using Observation

The sun shines brightly, but the air is cold here on the terrace where all the tables are full. The wait staff bustles quietly, and the low hum of traffic in the background drowns out the voices of the other patrons. My lukewarm coffee cup no longer warms my hands, yet I continue to hold it near my face to inhale the woodsy scent of Caribou coffee mixed with brandy. The newspaper does not contain a single story I submitted to the Herald. As I gaze around the terrace, I wish I could witness something the Herald would find newsworthy—a horrific train crash, a serial murder, or a natural disaster.

A strident female voice catches my attention.

“I don’t understand why you are mad.” She twists her wedding ring round and round on her finger. “You totally blew the entire situation out of control. I would never, ever cheat you.” Her voice rises in volume near the end of the sentence.

The couple is young, newly married—their rings show no tell-tale tan lines. The gold, still shiny and clean, reflects the rays of the sun. The young woman’s blonde hair falls over her face, shielding me from her expression. Her elbows tuck tightly against her body, and her foot taps, to music only she can hear. The young man presses his lips into a thin line. His jaw pulses as he grits his teeth. He pushes his full plate of food toward the middle of the table, his hands gripping each other so tightly his knuckles turn white.

The waiter interrupts. “Are you finished with your plates?”

The couple turns their heads as one, their scowls making the waiter stammer. “I’m sorry, I’ll come back in a bit,” he says before hurrying away.

The man nearly shouts, “You think—” but quickly lowers his voice. “You think I think you cheated me? Really, that’s how you want to spin this? For months, we have planned, saved, and dreamed of coming here. We have poured over brochures, talked to hundreds of hotels, motels, and bed-and-breakfasts so we could get the most out of our funds, and you… you think I think you cheated me?” The dishes shake as he slams his fist on the table. “I can’t believe you are so blind.” He shakes his head, barely noticing the staff cleaning up around him.

With each word he speaks, the woman tenses as if bracing for a blow. Her tapping foot stills, but her leg begins to shake, quick and erratic. Her hair swings out as she looks wildly around. She raises her hand to catch the waiter’s eye, never meeting her husband’s gaze. “Waiter, please bring us our check,” she says, her voice quivering before breaking into tears.

Standing, she places both hands on the table, leaning so far forward that her hair dips into the untouched food, her nose inches from her husband’s face. “I did not intentionally lose our money. I want to go home as much as you do because paradise is an illusion.”

He leans in until they are nose-to-nose. “You are so stupid.”

Without hesitation, she fires back. “I know it, and I have a certificate to prove it.”

He sits back, his brows furrowing. “What are you talking about?”

Venom still drips from her voice as she replies, “My marriage certificate!”

At that moment, the couple locks eyes, and both burst into laughter. They sit there quietly, holding hands as the waiter clears the table. Their love shines brightly, their gold wedding bands free of any shadow of their troubles, at least to the casual passerby.

As I sit there watching the couple, I decide to write a different article for the Herald. After all, natural disasters, serial murders, and catastrophic events happen all around me if I take the time to look.

Originally published in 2015 – Revised 2025