As our sweet conversation continued，my eyes glanced across the restaurant，stopping at the small corner booth where an elderly couple sat. Her floral-print dress seemed as faded as the cushion on which she had rested her worn handbag. The top of his head was as shiny as the soft-boiled egg on which he very slowly nibbled. She also ate her oatmeal at a slow, almost tedious pace.
But what drew my thoughts to them was their undisturbed silence. It seemed to me that a melancholy emptiness permeated their little corner. As the exchange between Michael and me fluctuated from laughs to whispers, confessions to assessments，this couple’s poignant stillness called to me. How sad to have anything left to say. Wasn’t there any page that they hadn’t yet turned in each other’s stories? What if that happened to us?
Michael and I paid our small tab and got up to leave the restaurant. As we walked by the corner where the old couple sat，I accidentally dropped my wallet. Be