Page 30 of Semblance

He shook his head.

I was about to lose it.

“Please I insist,” I tried one last time.

“When royalty dines in a peasant’s house, the peasant does not charge the queen,” he replied.

Royalty? I’ll show them royalty. I decided to go off the rails. I picked up my bottle of sake and dropped it to the floor.

“Let me pay for that,” I said.

“No.”

Argh. At this point I was seriously considering taking out the bottle of overpriced perfume I purchased and spraying the entire sushi bar with it, defiling the sanctity of their kitchen with the scent of perfume. However I had caused enough damage here for one day.

Feeling rather ashamed, I reached down to pick up the broken glass from the shattered bottle of sake. A waitress was already there cleaning up the mess.

“Don’t,” I said. “I got it.”

“Please, do not concern yourself,” the waitress remarked as she placed the last of the broken pieces on an empty tray and headed to the back of the kitchen.

“I’m really sorry, I didn’t mean to be such a jerk.”

“No apologies needed,” old master turtle said.

I gathered up my shopping bags and stood up, suddenly aware that all attention in the restaurant was focused on me.

“I still owe you,” I said as I headed for the exit.

“No you don’t,” the old man replied. “And please do come again.”

#

“That’ll be twenty-four dollars,” the cabdriver said as he dropped me in front of my apartment.

I was shocked.

“Really?” I asked. “You’re going to charge me?”

“Well yeah,” the cab driver said, shooting me an awkward glance. “Why are you surprised?”

I was ecstatic as I reached into my pocket and yanked out two twenty-dollar bills.

“Thank you!” I exclaimed as I thrust the cash into the palm of his hand. “I’m so happy you’re charging me. Please, keep the change.”

“You’re fucking crazy,” the cabdriver said, just before cracking a smile. “But I like your generous ways.”

“You’re sweet,” I replied as I got out of the cab.

Just as the taxi pulled away, a black limo pulled up beside me. The passenger side window slowly scrolled down revealing Abraham’s weathered features.

“Is it Saturday already?” I asked. “I didn’t know the universe decided to remove Wednesday, Thursday, and Friday from the weekly calendar.”

Abraham laughed warmly. “Actually, I’m here to drive you home.”

“I am home,” I said.

“To yournewhome,” Abraham corrected me, as if I was to know this tidbit of knowledge. “All your belongings have been moved to your new penthouse condo down on Fifth Street.”

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