The Night I Learned the Value of Dining Alone!

Small Moments of Belonging

I ate slower after that—not out of defiance, but gratitude. The fennel salad lifted my spirits. The fish was charred just to the edge. Candlelight turned my water glass into a shimmering lake.

Later, the twins sketched with crayons. One held up a drawing: yellow circles for light, a window, and a stick figure—me—smiling at the table. “It’s you,” she said proudly. I placed a hand over my heart. “It’s perfect.”

The manager approached, cautious. “Thank you for your patience,” she said. I smiled. “I didn’t move. But thank you for asking, not assuming.” She placed a lemon tart on the table—on the house. “For perspective.” We laughed together.

As I savored the tart’s citrus brightness, an older man dining alone raised his espresso in a silent toast. I nodded back. Two solo diners, quietly acknowledging each other.

A Sentence to Keep

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