‘No… I have more.’

‘Oh yeah?’

‘Yeah… fuck off.’

When she emerged, I was sitting on the bench outside. She stopped, looked quizzical, asked, ‘Why are you waiting. You’ve no authority out here.’

Yank.

‘You got that right sister, authority was never one of my assets but I’m not a store detective, just a punter.’

Understanding lit her face… then something else… like shame maybe. A horrendous sight.

‘You saved me.’

‘Well…’

‘How can I thank you… oh GAWD… I’m so embarrassed… I get spasms… I…’

‘Wanna eat?’

‘Excuse me?’

I stood up, explained, ‘It’s not a difficult question… but lemme break it down. A: Are you hungry. B: If so, lemme treat you. A new joint has opened down the road… What do you say?’

She appeared to give it serious thought, said, ‘Okey-dokey, how could I turn down an offer like that.’

It looked like the place had just opened, like in the previous five minutes. We sat at a table, admired the unfinished surroundings. A guy built to bounce came over, he had the dazed look of a drinker. Everything about him was big but not muscle, flabbiness. A line of grey sweat nibbled at his temples and upper lip. He’d a bright plastic name tag which read ‘Hi, I’m Bert.’

He didn’t appear pleased to see us. But it wasn’t personal. He’d had a bad day in his past and was holding on to it… and grimly. I asked, ‘Are you Bert?’

‘Who’s asking.’

‘Jeez, take it easy, if you’re hiding out, you’ve picked the wrong disguise.’

The woman said, ‘Bert, how about you bring us some coffee… then we’ll chow down. Give us all a minute to consider the words of Desiderata.’

‘Wha?’

‘Coffee Bert… two coffees… Before Tuesday… OK.’

He rumbled off.

She smiled, said, ‘My hunch is he’s also the short-order chef so cancel them burgers.’

‘Yeah… you’re American.’

‘That a disappointment?’