They stayed for dessert. Nobody had anywhere to be.
There is bread, there is wine, and behind them a rectangle of light. It has been painted this way before.
These are men who have made their peace. They are lonely sometimes and they say so, and they have stopped treating that as a failure. Whatever they arrived at, they arrived at it together and some time ago.
Nobody knows where the women are.
Below the terrace is a whole town that could resent them and does not. They have never given it a reason. Their standing costs nobody anything, and nobody asks who granted it.