The girl looked up at her mother and said, "We're small."
It was sudden--so sudden that the mother looked down at her child in surprise. But then she nodded solemnly. "Yes. Yes, we are."
"Why are we small?" the girl wondered, glancing at the many people in the room. Some, with a friend or a mate or someone, and some with an empty chair beside them. Her mother sat down in one of the tables, looking longingly at the other chair, which was empty.
"Because there's a lot of people. We're a small part of everyone. And you're the smallest." She said the last with a weary smile, and tapped the little girl's nose.
"So we should all be together then, right? Since we're all one part of everyone else?"
Her mother looked at her and sighed. "Yes. We should. But sometimes that doesn't happen."
"Why not?"
Her mother motioned for her to sit, but still the girl didn't. She shook her head and answered. "Because some people just don't want to be together. Some people don't want to work together to make things happen."
The little girl looked at her mother, sat down across from her, and held up the menu, like a toast. "I'll be with you. Always."
Her mother smiled. "Always."