Okay, but who are they?? (fiction)

I met them at Max’s when I was visiting a friend. My friend was working that day so I thought, ah this place looks cool why don’t I go in? And there he was. Under a spotlight. Alone. He looked like he was waiting for someone. He’d turn his head ever so often. Swiveling in his barstool like a little kid. If he shot his gaze to the left, so would I. And if he shot his gaze to the right or upside down or through the soul of the bartender that poured him his favorite glass of poison, so would I. Who was he waiting on? Who were we waiting on?

And then, everything felt…off. Like every piece of furniture had moved over two inches. He had to turn his entire body around in his chair. Wasn't he swiveling earlier?

Like a follower, I watched her move through the room like it was another dimension. She transfixed everyone that dared look her in the eyes and the only one who could tell me what I had to do to see what she saw was him. I had to meet them.