A Table for One

Mia goes into a small restaurant at nine. The room is almost empty. A tired waiter in a white apron points to a table in the corner.

Mia går ind i en lille restaurant klokken ni. Rummet er næsten tomt. En træt tjener i et hvidt forklæde peger på et bord i hjørnet.

"Just one?" he asks. Mia says yes. She always travels alone. She is a little nervous. The menu is on one small piece of paper.

"Kun én?" spørger han. Mia siger ja. Hun rejser altid alene. Hun er lidt nervøs. Menuen er på ét lille stykke papir.

Mia points at a word. She does not know it. The waiter smiles. "The special," he says slowly. "My grandmother's food. If you do not like it, I bring something else."

Mia peger på et ord. Hun kender det ikke. Tjeneren smiler. "Dagens ret," siger han langsomt. "Min bedstemors mad. Hvis du ikke kan lide den, henter jeg noget andet."

The food comes in a heavy bowl. It is hot, with garlic and little pieces of bread. Mia tries it. The waiter watches her from the bar.

Maden kommer i en tung skål. Den er varm, med hvidløg og små stykker brød. Mia smager den. Tjeneren ser på hende fra baren.

Mia gives him a thumbs up. He laughs and fills her glass again. "Good," he says. "Come back tomorrow. Then I tell you what is in it."

Mia rækker tommelfingeren op. Han griner og fylder hendes glas igen. "Godt," siger han. "Kom igen i morgen. Så fortæller jeg dig hvad der er i den."