Saturday morning, two people are having breakfast together. They do not talk to each other, there is no need to. He pretends to read his newspaper, but he sees dancing words only. She plays with her cell phone as she takes pictures of almost every object contained in the restaurant. They are still a young couple for not having a conversation and I wonder why. I start making up their story: He usually gets home very late before because of work, according to he. She is mad at him because he never calls her to let her know he is going to be late. He thinks of his friends and remembers his life as a bachelor. Has love gone away? Has routine defeated love? A waitress puts the bill on the table. He wants to go home, she doesn't. She wants to walk down the street and feel the sun on her face. He pays and she tips and both walk away. I then notice my breakfast is cold.