Finally Misty made her way over to the deli's buffet where they were serving pita bread, hummus and various versions of curry. A couple cooks were hurridly serving gyros, they were stuffing the pocket breads at a rapid pace, and stopped momentarily to look over at Misty from underneath their paper, chef hats. The Arabian curls barely made it into their hats and cascaded across their foreheads.
They took her in, smiled and mumbled something in Arabic to the owner, who spoke to them, smiling all the more to Misty's displeasure of not knowing the language. Derrick took two steps closer to Misty, hoping he'd turn away their glances. But it was to no avail, they stared at her animatedly, it was almost like reflecting on a cool dream they had the night before. Once seated, with Misty’s choice gyro in a rectangular square shaped styro foam plate, Misty poked Derrick cordially reminding them of the Arabs and their looks at her, playfully as Derrick cajoled her back, poking her rib cage. “I guess you want to head back” stated Derrick casually after a few moments. To Derrick’s disappointment, she was looking at the wall clock that had a spaghetti sized splatter to the right of it, probably left overs from some hindu kids messing around, a small family with kids sat nearby. “I, myself plan to get a coffee, after I drop you off.”
