Genovese’s Pizza & Pub


Deirdre ignored the voice, the conversations swirling around her, all the noise and the laughter that belonged to the people who actually lived here—not to her, the outsider.   She sat back in the corner of the booth and let her eyes wander around the long narrow room.

Genovese’s, the pizza place where she had gone with Seth and his friends, seemed to be more bar than restaurant; with dim lights, brick walls, and the sharp, slightly yeasty smell of beer permeating the air.  Eight tables and a dartboard took up the back half of the restaurant, while here in the front half, five booths occupied the wall that faced the long wooden bar.   She checked out the handful of men who sat at the bar, searching their reflections in the mirror.  Hoping to see the one face that would be familiar—a face that, so far, she had seen only in photographs, or in her dreams—the face of her father.

©PG Forte 2005
A Taste of Honey

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