Pity
Tanya sipped her espresso.
The café buzzed with life.
She had taken the last free table.
An old lady shuffled in.
A cappuccino. Extra froth.
She looked around.
Tanya’s eyes met hers.
Tanya nodded at the empty chair.
The old lady smiled and sat.
“Thank you, darling. Thoughtful of you.”
Tanya smiled and returned to her magazine.
The old lady sipped her cappuccino.
Tanya got goosebumps.
Suddenly too cold.
“It’s a pity,” the old lady said.
Tanya looked up.
“How it ends.”
The lady’s eyes held hers.
Tanya’s lips quivered.
“Excuse me, ma’am?”
“You’re such a benefit to society,” the lady said. “It’s a pity how it ends.”
She sipped her cappuccino.
The magazine lay on the table.
The old lady read the lines.
Upside down.
Tanya’s throat tightened.
“I’m sorry, ma’am. I don’t quite follow.”
It wasn’t a statement.
It was a plea.
The old lady shook her head. Stood.
“The accident won’t be your fault,” she said. “Enjoy every day.”
Silence.
“It’s a pity. How it ends.”
She walked out.
Tanya’s eyes fogged.
She stared at the leftover cappuccino.
Stirred it with the wooden stick.
She couldn’t stand the cinnamon powder on the foam.
It looked like a skull.
-ck