Unexpected

Her name etched across my caller ID, causes me to freeze
for a moment. Answering, she tells me she wants to hang out.
I can’t believe it. A Friday night and she has no plans?
My empty schedule begins to erupt with new ideas and hopes
of the places we will go and waste our weeks’ pay.

Her sleek black car roars in the driveway,
it sits and beckons for me to take off and leave the sour week behind.
Poor college students yet a posh pastry shop on Federal Hill calls our names.
Perched there, it taunts us with the promise of something sweet.
I’ve never been, but she says it’s worth every penny.

Ground coffee beans taunt my nose while we wait for a seat.
Condensation droplets dribble down the glass that houses the delectable desserts,
and I’m torn between three choices: fluffy, rich, savory.
Thirteen tables crammed together in the storefront but
of course when we’re seated it’s by the window with a draft.

Torta de Chocolata: the richest dessert, the most expensive,
the most appealing, the one I ultimately choose.
Drizzled bitter raspberry sauce and a bite of creamy chocolate delight.
It’s delicious but the forkfuls brings an unexpected sugary induced nausea.
My teeth begin to hurt. Halfway through I can’t take another bite.

The cackle of the silver bells signal our exit.
A cool summer breeze caresses my face, night has just fallen.
The sun sets and the moon rises, together they illuminate the city skyline.
We pass signs with names we don’t dare try to pronounce
as we walk under the dim white flecks of the streetlights.

The beige interior of her car envelops us, it’s only 8:41.
The night’s still young and the sky darkens with possibilities.
Her phone shines a message. Other plans for her, but not for me.
It’s 8:53 and I’m back where the night began. As I pass,
I toss the To-Go box in the trash, the once sweet chocolate turning bitter.