Lunch in 2012

She sits with her husband and eats a cheeseburger. “Have you been keeping up with the election?” He mumbles an answer. She replies in her Nebraskan accent “Obama.” He looks quizzically at her. “The President of the United States? Obama. Barack Obama? You don’t know who the President is?” And he didn’t. Or if he did, he doesn’t anymore. He continues to mumble something, looking at her over the top of his glasses. “Well, the President is just the mouthpiece and I don’t think he’s bad.” She leans in and continues “I think Congress,” and looks at him over her glasses, “Congress, and that Cabinet of his are the bad guys.”

They sit in silence. He chews and stares wide-eyed into the restaurant, sitting on teal vinyl seats and looking at the rest of the tacky, plastic decor. She sits quietly flicking her iPhone in its bedazzled case. Her belt and shoes sparkle with rhinestones and her purple zebra scarf is bright against her otherwise dark outfit.

After some time, she gets her things together and says “Come on, you can take that cup with you in the car. Did you hear the government is trying to regulate the size of cups in fast food restaurants because everyone is so fat?”