The last chip

Manny, Catherine, and Craig were already seated. A fourth chair at their table was empty, as if they'd been expecting Sharlene, who wanted to dine alone. They insisted she join them, waving their arms and smiling like crazy. Sharlene was thirty-seven years old and still hadn't learned to say no.

Sharlene wanted the tortilla soup for her appetizer but Craig said the chips and salsa were to die for. Sharlene wanted chiles rellenos for her entrée. Manny said the chiles rellenos were too heavy, unlike the carne asada. Climate change was real. Netflix binging was essential. The new art exhibit at the gallery next door, lukewarm at best. They were the loud table in the restaurant. Catherine took the last chip without asking if anyone wanted it. Craig flew into a fury. Manny intervened. Their table got even louder.

Unnoticed, Sharlene moved to an unoccupied table as far away as possible. The waiter asked if she was ready to order. Yes, she said, she was. She hadn't learned to say no, but there was more than one way to say yes. The tortilla soup was to die for. The chiles rellenos — perfect.