Beyond The Script

Another wet August morning. Parasols weave in and out of squelchy but ordered traffic. A tall young woman enters the cacophonous cafe. It takes her a couple of seconds to adjust to the musty gloom inside. A quick reconnoitring look around. She takes brisk steps to the counter on the far side, scanning the tables all the while.

She spots me waving frantically. An acknowledging nod and she settles on the chair. An apologia is unnecessary but she does it anyway. I'm awfully sorry I'm late. But with a small baby in the house, you know how it is...