Table For Two  Table For Two  by Kirsten Burgess  He sits by
himself at a table for two.  The uniformed waiter returns to his
side and ask,"Would you like to go ahead and order, sir?" The
man has, after all, been waiting since seven o'clock--almost
half an hour. "No, thank you," the man smiles. "I'll wait for
her a while longer. How about some more coffee?"  "Certainly,
sir."  The man sits, his clear blue eyes gazing straight through
the flowered centerpiece. He fingers his napkin, allowing the
sounds of light chatter, tinkling silverware, and mellow music
to fill his mind. He is dressed in sport coat and tie. His dark
brown hair is neatly combed, but one stray lock insists on
dropping to his forehead. The scent of his cologne adds to his
clean cut image. He is dressed up enough to make a companion
feel important, respected, loved. Yet he is not so formal as to
make one uncomfortable. It seems that he has taken every
precaution to make others feel at ease with him. Still, he sits
alone.  The waiter returns to