Ready
She looks up from the over-clean table,
throws the cloth on to the bar. Oh, no,
a customer. Glances toward the door but
he’s well past, already taking a table
near the front window. He stares out.
From behind, she notices his overcoat
trailing on the floor where he hasn’t
taken it off after plonking down. Long
ginger curls escape from the purple cap
perched on his head like a stray thought.
She closes the distance. He whirls
round and holds her with a sharp
glance from his unpatched eye.
She stops in her tracks, lets
her hands fall to her sides.
This guy won’t want a full breakfast.
‘Short black, no sugar.’ She looks
like she’s never seen a pirate before.
Probably thinks I'm in a play
or something. Can’t smell the sea
salt under my fingernails. Why
has she dropped her arms like that?
Like she’s given up. She doesn’t
have to be a waitress. ‘Hey.’
She inclines her head towards
him but avoids his eyes.
‘Wanna go sailing?’
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