16 Jan Spice of Life Opposite POV

I slid the ring back in my pocket.

It wasn’t a “let’s talk about this later” or anything that would suggest the timing was off, but negotiable.

It was a flat out “no.”

I swear the whole restaurant let out a collective sigh of sympathy.

It was time to get away.

I decided on Tokyo.

Tokyo was foreign in all aspects, and most likely wouldn’t have reminders of her and our failed relationship.

We never took an international trip together. She was the type who thought Chinese food was “too ethnic.”

I decided on a street food cart selling what looked like grilled squid on a stick. I was never an adventurous eater, my habits perpetuated by her own bland habits. I eyed the squid with curiosity, then skepticism.


“Ikayaki” the young woman selling the food said with a smile. She was mind-mannered and kind, handling the food with care and detail. Her beauty and grace a stark contrast to her.

 
“Excuse me?”


“Ikayaki” she repeated and handed me a stick.


I took a small bite and finished the rest in 3.

 
She giggled at how ravenous I was.


I pointed to each of the other grilled seafood on a stick, signaling that I wanted one of each.

 
We spent the rest of night communicating with nothing but smiles and glances, no need for words.