Byron was enjoying his little chat and meal with Melissa. She was charming company which somewhat surprised Byron. After all, she came from working class stock. Normally one did not find much from the drudge section of society save for the usual gossipy females and beer swilling males. And yet today he discovered a taxi driver that showed promise and now he was finding Melissa to be an engaging breakfast partner.
He was starting to wonder if maybe he had been to harsh on the lower classes in his essays. Could it be there was hope after all for society at large? He pondered this a moment and reached a sad conclusion. Not a chance. Melissa and the cabbie were rare aberrations, diamonds in the rough, so to speak. And having seen the world first hand, he knew it was plenty rough.
He dished up another helping and ate heartily. He had to admit, Melissa could cook. She was going to make some man a wonderful wife. Unfortunately, with the slim picking among her class, she was unlikely to find someone worthy of her. A pity. She deserved the best.
As he took another fork-full of food, his mind drifted back to Madison. She was obviously attempting to break Olympic sulking record. Sometimes she was such a child. She needed to be more thick skinned like himself. Byron lived under the delusion he could not only dish it out but could also take it, as it were. In reality, few stood up to him or dared to question his commentary for fear of being verbally humbled by the prowess of the master wordsmith.
But back to Madison. She had been in childish rich girl tantrum mode for far to long. Perhaps it was time to check on her, see if she was overcoming her shameful emotional spasm. Byron hoped so. He finished his plate and rose from the table. Smiling, he thanked Melissa for a delicious breakfast and the charming company. With that he took his leave, explaining it was time to take Melissa’s earlier suggestion and talk with Madison.