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Jerry was a race car driver, why was this song stuck in her head?
She returned to her milkshake, then stared out the window, the milkshake forgotten again.
It's not a particularly good song.
A few stray leaves whisked by, the breeze catching them on their travels and lodging one firmly in the hat of a passerby who walked on unawares.
I don't even understand what the damned thing's about.
The café wasn't quite entirely empty, but might as well have been for all of the business that they seemed liable to get — the day had begun so bright, then turned blustery, and now couldn't make up its mind, not quite cold or wet enough to drive people to shelter and a warm belly, nor yet quite so hot and humid as to force them to seek relief and something cool to quench their parched throats.
I might as well simply leave, really; it's not as if I'm accomplishing anything here, and none of the books hold any real attraction for me.
She'd been stuck on Earth One for several years now, staying close to the Hohokam Homes development the whole time, always hoping to hear the peal of Shambariman's horn signaling her way back to Kickaha's world.
Still, the waitress is cute, and doesn't seem to mind my being here — ugh, that damned riff is there again!
As she sat there, the day took a decided turn northwesterly, the overcast thickening and increasingly turbulent as it mixed with the ground winds from Baja.
If I'm careful, I should be able to make this 'shake last a little while longer before she gets too impatient — or suspicious...
Even as she thought this, she could sense the waitress approaching, but before she could glance over, a small saucer with a slice of pie found its way in front of her.
What...
She looked up, only to see the waitress retreating to her station.
I didn't order this — I certainly can't pay for this — why did she bring me this?
She began to stand up, to return the offering to her benefactress, but thought better of it.
She brought it to me unsought, so why shouldn't I eat it?
Her belly growled as she reached for her fork tentatively, eyeing the dollops of ice cream riding atop the pie.
Slowly, don't wolf it down, just take small bites and wait between them...
As she swallowed the first morsel, the waitress glanced at the clock, walked over to the door, turned the latch, and flipped the sign.
Well, so much for that plan.
The waitress simply waved her down to finish her dish.
That buys me some time, at any rate.
Time passed, and the pie grew smaller, as did the remainder of her drink.
I suppose that that's that, then...
As she set down her fork on the empty plate and looked longingly at her equally empty glass, the waitress slid into the seat across the table from her.
Now what?
Her erstwhile benefactress set down a milkshake, along with two straws, then looked inquiringly to Anana, who couldn't help smiling back.
O ~~~ O