Remorse

He looked so handsome. His face was filled with pride as he walked in. His eyes glistened with confidence with a hint of seriousness in them as well. He looked as though he was discussing business in serious matters with the guy next to him. He sat on their table opposing ours, he was across from me. I stared with amusement at the way his eyebrows were pointing downwards; a sign of seriousness. I remembered the old days, he was rarely serious. My heart fluttered at those memories demanding to relive them.
As I got lost in my own bubble, I felt someone's eyes burning holes right through me. I looked up to catch those glares. His eyes met mine. All I could read from his eyes were emotions changing every moment. At first he looked lost as he deeply gazed in my eyes. A black pool, I reminded myself of his eye color. Then, I read pain in his eyes. Relapsing into lost again, he smiled. His eyes changed into loving, gentle, and soft. Lastly, his eyes looked concerned slowly fading into passionate again. I predicted that he was remembering the old days. Now, all I could see from his small smile is nostalgia. His eyes joined that feeling as well.
We interlocked looks for about twenty-five seconds. I slowly moved my gaze back to my full plate. I didn't feel hungry anymore, I thought. I played with the fork as I waited for the check to arrive. My phone vibrated on my lap, I picked it up quickly hoping that my mom was calling from London. It turned out to be a text. "I miss you..", it read. I kept reading it for about seven times until my frown turned into a painful smile. I undoubtedly pressed delete.
I placed my phone on the table next to the glass carrying water. He looked at me as though knowing that I deleted the message. His eyes were questioning mine demanding answers. I just looked down at my plate again. After what seemed like eternity, the check was delivered. I quickly fidgeted with my wallet until a I found the accurate Dinars needed. I quickly placed them in the check-holder on top of the check and carried my bag. Standing up, he looked at me with pleading eyes aiming for forgiveness. I returned his gesture by flipping my hair back, coldly staring at him, then wearing my sunglasses. I raced out of the restaurant and sat in my car. It took me a minute or two to realize what happened, and another minute to relax. Drowning in the streets back home; "such a waste," was all that kept running through my mind.