Vesna left her reading glasses in her bag, and Mladen left his in the car. Neither knew the other's decision. They sat in a restaurant with small table lamps and a menu whose letters were thinner than the twigs in a decorative vase. Vesna held it farther away. Mladen moved it closer to the lamp. Both looked serious, as though choosing a particularly important dish, while actually unable to read half the choices.
A friend had introduced them, and this was their first outing alone. They were old enough not to expect perfection, at least theoretically. Yet Vesna wanted to look carefree and Mladen younger than the photograph their friend had selected. Glasses seemed a small thing they could skip. Neither predicted that this small choice would require ten minutes of negotiation with unreadable paper.
Vesna pointed at a line she thought described fish. Mladen ordered the same, grateful not to choose further. The waiter asked whether they were sure they wanted two portions. Both said yes. When a large bowl of cold fruit salad arrived, they exchanged identical surprise. Vesna asked first whether there had been a mixup.
The waiter pointed at the exact line. Mladen was still trying to distinguish letters when Vesna produced her glasses. She read, paused, and began laughing. She admitted she had not seen what she ordered. Mladen lowered the menu and said his glasses were waiting in the car, probably more intelligently than he was. The waiter laughed only once they were already laughing, then suggested sharing the salad and choosing something else.
Mladen went out for his glasses. While waiting, Vesna calmly read the whole menu for the first time. On returning he asked her not to tell their friend, then added that he certainly would because the story was too good. Vesna showed him the dish she actually wanted. They ordered differently, without inventing similarities even in dinner.
The conversation improved. They discussed things they no longer did as before and things they did more easily: refusing bad company, choosing comfortable shoes, going home when tired. They did not make age a contest in self acceptance. Mladen still occasionally removed his glasses while speaking, and Vesna positioned herself toward light she liked.
On the second date she brought spare glasses in case they forgot something again. Mladen brought a large print book and wrote an invitation to a third dinner on its first page. Vesna accepted on condition that she could read the whole menu. They never ordered the fruit salad again. Yet both remembered it as the best beginning to a dinner they did not know how to choose.