 I was sitting at a table in an open cafe. The day was beautiful and the cafe was crowded and soon I found someone tugging at the sleeve of my shirt. I looked up to see this short, young woman who was dressed like she’d fallen into Stevie Nick’s wardrobe and had rolled around in it until she was covered. I’m not sure I would call it gypsy chic so much as rich material hobo. This is to say that she was dressed quite eclectically and stood out like a sore thumb among all of the pastel shirts and summer attire . I guess that’s why she choose to stop at my table; I was probably the only one there who looked like she knew all the words to any given Fleetwood Mac song.
The young woman asked if she could share my table as there were no free tables. I nodded my head and gestured to the empty seat across from me. She fell into the chair as though her legs were rabidly becoming rubber. A waitress came to the table and asked her if she’d like to order anything. The woman’s very small, yarn wrapped hands reached into a pocket and came back with only a few quarters. She shrugged her shoulders sadly and began to shake her head no. I told her to get something, that it would be on me. I didn’t have much either but I was doing better than a few quarters. |
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