Romance is dead, unless you order it "To Go".

In the beginning
We closed our eyes
Whenever we kissed
We were surprised
To find so much inside
- Wilco


And the entire waiting staff could feel it, a presence wafting with the stench of Disney movies, threatening to break the harsh reality that the restaurant was closing, and they all had to rush home for urgent plans to sit in their computer chair alone, or make castles out of Vacation Bible School milk cartons or something.
The couple had sat down at the corner window table, too engrossed in the words that leaked from each others' lips, too distracted by hints of smiles and playful dialogue, to remember to order. Instead they held their forks and knives outright at arms length, as if waiting to devour each other at the first sign of weakness in the other corner of the boxing ring, or at the first sign of nobody else watching- which, as far as they honestly noticed, nobody was. They were both listening to the same soundtrack- a rustic, warbling tune from a mediocre guitarist and a worse singer. Heartfelt though it was, you had to know the guy to stand his music.
The busboy intentionally dropped a plate, watching with a mixture of fear and righteous wrath as the pieces danced across the floor, windup porcelain ballerinas from your grandmother's house.
Your grandmother certainly would not have lost her patience here, however, like the errant busboy. Grandma has no vapid xbox game to return home to at a reasonable hour; grandma would most likely say something along the lines of "well, just look at the young people," either with an air of wistfulness and admiration, or judgment and disdain, depending on the grandmother. My grandmother, after all, was quite the smartass, for which we buried her with all the more love.
I played pickup football with friends in my backyard the day she died in our living room. She would have wanted it.

The couple, suddenly looking around, decided to order drinks. Hitherto they had been sucking on the lemons from their now empty glasses of water.
They promptly received two entrees, neither of which they ordered and one of which they were charged for on the accompanying bill. Both were boxed neatly in plastic containers.
The staff were all wearing their jackets. The busboy dropped his car keys.


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And I swear I'll pull you from the clay, where the motes of dust drift down... just grab my bony wrist.
Raise your wraith fingers, trembling in the light, as crisp and brittle and fresh as pretzel rods in a resealed ziplock bag, not too fresh and not too stale.