| rev:text
| - Frankly, my experience at Bread Co. was exquisite. The ambiance of the restaurant truly brought me my own little slice of delicious calm, amidst my tragically hurried day. The music was lively, yet gentle and when coupled with the homey nature of the decor I found myself more relaxed and able to enjoy my lunch. However, there was another major facet of the Bread Co. experience that served to make my meal much more lovely than any other atmosphere could provide. A dashing young man working behind the counter guided me through ordering with such wit and charm that I was utterly entranced. He was very informed and knowledgeable about all that Bread Co. had to offer, which he kindly demonstrated as he took my order. When he handed me my food, my fingertips gently slid across his as the platter moved from his grasp to my own. In that moment, as I looked up to meet his strong, dark gaze I found myself a bumbling, blushing fool, stammering my thanks for all his help. He shushed me and laughed, gesturing for me to find a table. I sat, giggling and still flushed from our conversation, before beginning to dig in to my salad. He had guided me towards a pear salad adorned with walnuts, blue cheese, and raspberry vinaigrette, paired with freshly-squeezed lemonade and a hunk of firm, warm baguette (I smile quietly to myself as I think of my new friend, also firm, warm, and a hunk). As I ate, I continued to chance looks over the counter, hoping to find the same connection that I had felt before. Yet, as I shyly glanced with thirsting eyes in the direction of the kitchen, I heard his soft, velvety voice behind me asking if I was enjoying my meal. I turned, embarrassed, hand flying to my breast as color flooded my cheeks. Caught. He smiled warmly down at me, expectant. "What should I call you?", I blurted out. (Dammit Gwen! Pull yourself together!) Kindly, he overlooked my clumsiness and informed me in his deep voice that his name was Sam Washington. "Sam Washington?", I asked, "but- what do your friends call you?". He grinned his crooked grin at my weak attempt at flirtation. "They call me Sam."
For a moment, there was silence. Though it didn't feel awkward, as it should when talking to someone you just met. No. This was effortless. His eyes stole me away to a place I could barely bring myself to leave. His strong voice broke the quiet, reminding me that I hadn't answered his question. Once again, I couldn't halt the blush that swept across my face. I suddenly realized that I was the last remaining customer in the restaurant, had we really been gazing into each other for that long? "I'm sorry, I must go..." I said while bashfully staring at the floor, desperate for him to stop me. When I looked up, he was gone.
Food was good. Four stars.
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