A sight for sore eyes leaves a bitter taste in the mouth

The girl was two tables away from me. Or one table, if you were to count diagonally.

I guessed her age to be not more than my own. Seated placidly with two of her presumed family, possibly her grandmother and kid sibling, she ordered her food with a smile. Confident with her order, she proceeded to chat with her grandmother animatedly.

Seated with my book, I could not help but give the occasional glance to the girl. Why was I drawn to how she looked? A canvas, attractive, though living and breathing was a fascinating sight as I waited for my food to arrive.

She caught my glance once, and our gazes met. Breath flickers of comprehension seemed to cross her face as she seems to have both acknowledged my presence and identified who I was. She showed a quick smile and went back to talking with her grandmother (who seemed to disapprove) and insofar as I knew, not once did she look back again, as I wondered whether she knew who I was or if we knew each other, or simply that she was being friendly.

Then my steak was served.

It was unpleasant.