Abstract Paranoia

She is the table's only occupant.
The soft jazz carves imprinted, frenzied patterns across her nerves.
Her eyes dart from side to side, one minute here, one minute there.
They are all plotting against her.
Everyone.
Husband said happy birthday.
Husband said go have fun, he will take care of the kids.
Husband said go eat at nice restaurant, he will pay.
Husband is a crazy liar.
She studies the menu warily. Whatever she orders, it will be poisoned.
But she orders anyway. The fish will look good, even if it isn't eaten.
She doesn't trust the waiter.
He has an evil appearance. His black, curled mustache stares like an eye.
She looks over her shoulder, touching a hand to her neck.
An elderly couple looks her way and smiles.
She abruptly turns her head back around, burrowing her face in the menu.
Scary. The fancy lights, the delicious smells, the shimmering candles.
All built by stolen, corrupted funds.
She pulls out a mirror and she studies her reflection for one moment.
Her abundant curls fall below her shoulder.
Their brightness contributes to her fair complexion.
Too dressed up.
She is drawing too much attention.
Where is the fish? It has been such a long time.
A slight, monotonous tapping sound reaches her ear.
The end of her index finger softly beats against the top of the table.
Maybe it is all a trick.
How suspicious.
The tinkling of glass and the hollow sound of swirling liquid distracts her from her thoughts.
The waiter finishes pouring the clear substance into her glass.
He straightens his shoulders.
The waiter.
The waiter!
She jumps up in shock, accidentally knocking the glass over in the process.
The water is poisoned!
He apologizes and applies the towel from over his shoulder to the mess.
He says he will clean it up.
It is an act!
All an act!
She thwarted his attempt, even if by accident.
She looks over her shoulder, then back again.
Yes, it is all an act!
They want to be rid of her!
The fish arrives.
She cannot stand it anymore.
No more.
She has to get out of there!