Written for Muse On Monday. David has
asked us to write a story about a first date
in a war zone … whatever our definition of
a war zone is. Here’s where the prompt took me.

The candle on the table had been flickering for twenty minutes, though there was no draft.
Luca had ordered the mushroom risotto. Tamara had ordered the salmon. They had been talking about their jobs …. he was in R&D, she was in dental hygiene …. when the first police car went by, siren wailing, close enough to rattle the water in their glasses. They both watched their water glasses. The water settled. They looked back at each other.
“The risotto is actually very good,” Luca said.
“I heard this place gets their salmon fresh,” Tamara said. “You can tell.”
The waiter materialized, impeccable, to refill their wine. He did not appear to notice the shouting outside, or the second siren, or the fact that the couple at the window table had quietly moved to the one nearest the kitchen without mentioning it to anyone. He described the dessert options with the gravity of a man reading a will.
They ordered the crème brûlée to share.
Outside, something that sounded like a car backfiring was definitely not a car backfiring. A few people on the sidewalk moved briskly in the way that city people had learned to move …. not running, just purposeful and adjusted. Diners at another table paid their check and left. The candle kept flickering.
“The wine was an excellent choice,” Tamara said, turning her glass.
“It’s a good pairing,” Luca agreed. “With the risotto.”
“With the salmon too, actually.”
When the crème brûlée arrived they each took a spoon without discussing it. The custard was perfect. The sugar crust cracked cleanly. Outside the window the night was doing what nights do while inside the restaurant the candle was still glowing. Luca asked if she might want to do this again sometime and Tamara said she thought she might and they split the check evenly, down to the tip.
The waiter wished them a pleasant evening.
They stepped outside together into whatever the evening held.
NAR©2026
This is “Welcome To The Jungle” by Guns N’ Roses
Everything on The Elephant’s Trunk was created by me, unless otherwise indicated. Thanks for your consideration. NAR©2017-present.

You did a great job building the tension between the scene inside the restaurant and the one outside. I was waiting for the other shoe to drop but I guess we have to guess what is happening and what will happen to them. Sounds like they’re used to this sort of thing, at least. Great job, as always.
-David
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No shoe dropping this time, David …. just a look at how blasé people have become to the violent world right outside their window. Thanks so much. Looking forward to your next challenge.
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Being in the restaurant might have been safer than what was happening outside.
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The most dangerous part of this story is how the people in the restaurant had become so blasé to the violence right outside their window. Thanks, Iris.
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An intriguing adventure on the side Nancy.
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Thanks for reading and sharing your thoughts, Sadje.
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You’re very welcome dear sis
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So well done. I was looking forward to Pat Benatar when I read the title- but I forgave you by the time I finished your write. and I do love me some 87 Axl too!
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Well, Pat was my first choice, but then I realized her song was more about love and heartache as opposed to living in a violent. That’s what my story is all about …. becoming blasé or inured to what’s happening right outside our windows. I’m glad you enjoyed this …. and Axl. Thanks!
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Brilliant piece Nancy
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Thank you so much! It’s really an eye-opener how inured we, the global population, have become to violence. It’s a sad commentary. Thanks, Di.
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Let’s hope they make it to the second date! We live in interesting times, don’t we?
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Sadly, that is true, to the point where it almost doesn’t matter anymore. Thank you, Liz.
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Jungle indeed!
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And no one notices. What a sad commentary.
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They were in their own little world ❤️
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They certainly were! Thank you Lisa ❤️
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I had a flaming crème brûlée when I was in Sweeden and it is so embarassing when everyone in the resturant looks at your desert.
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True, or when they stare as the waiters sing Happy Birthday. I hate that!
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I never tell them when it is my birthday, as they can keep their free slice of cake to save me all of that embarrassment.
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It’s those well-intentioned friends who let them know!
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A good reason to cut down on your friends.
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😂 😂
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Love conquers all, they’ll be back for sure. Nice.
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So the saying goes! Thank you, dear Keith
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Ah … that first date, and I really cannot remember what was going on around us, my heart was racing, my world was spinning, and she sat there with her ‘everlasting smile’ …
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You are a very fortunate man to have such cherished everlasting memories 😌 Thank you for another new song, dear friend. 🩵 🎶
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My absolute pleasure, Nancy 🎶🥰💕
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