The Wagon Wheel

The Wagon Wheel was a charming old-world restaurant. Ian sat and stared at the front of the wooden building thinking to himself that a life spent running it wouldn't be a wasted one. He watched patrons go in and out, smiling as he watched the belly rubbing and back stretching of all those stuffed patrons.

Ian shivered as he felt a chill. The weather wasn't cold, typical of early fall, but the wind seemed to gather strength as it wound its way through the hills. He knew he couldn't roll up the window and smoke, his companion wouldn't hear of it.

Melissa was staring out the window whistling an old show tune. Her whistling usually drove Ian crazy, but he figured on a night like this everyone should enjoy themselves.

The quiet was shattered when an over-stuffed 10 year old tripped and rolled face first down the stairs. Ian couldn't help but laugh, and to his amazement Melissa was laughing just as hard. His father, whose annoyance seemed a little overblown, wiped the boy's tears and kissed his knee. The scene made Ian wonder where the child's mother was.

The hour was drawing late and the flow of customers, both in and out, started to dwindle. Ian and Melissa held hands and made small talk until theirs was the only car left. The lights surrounding the parking lot gave everything the appearance of an old black and white movie. It made Ian a little uncomfortable.

Ian scratched his chin with a relaxed finger and looked at his beloved. "Are you ready, my dove?" She nodded and pulled two masks out of the glove compartment. Ian rolled up the window and opened the door.