She doesn't appear to be looking at anything in particular, she's just staring into the distance, occasionally closing her eyes like she's having a flashback or daydreaming deeply. Her grey hair is always tumbling out of the bun she loosely ties at the back of her head. Her purple coat looks like crisply folded, each line defined with a sharp crease. Her scent is like a row of petunias growing in Spring, and you can smell it within a ten-metre radius of her. Her gnarled hands remind me of a dying pine tree, and they are forever wrapped around the blue porcelain she carries in her wrinkled leather purse. She'll stay until closing time, like she always does. She barely moves, except for when she goes to see Chris the coffee barista for her caramel-walnut latte. "Do you think she's waiting for something?" I ask Chris. "Dunno, but tell her that it's ten minutes to closing time." He replies, drying one of our teacups.
The next day, it's 12 pm and and the old woman hasn't shown up yet. But her cup is there, with a piece of paper sticking out from under the saucer. Suddenly, a man of about 30 in a military uniform enters, his arms open. "Ma, I'm home!" He exclaims. He looks around, confused, and then his eyes focus on the pastel blue cup. He runs to it, reads the paper sticking out and then falls to his knees in a breakdown of tears. Rose, the waitress, glides over to him. "Er...... Excuse me sir, may I help?" She asks. At this point, everyone in the cafe is staring, when the military man turns to Rose and whispers: " She's dead." Chris sighs as he notices my confused face and tosses me the morning paper. The headline reads: "Local woman's spontaneous death" . I gasp and then wake up breathing heavily....
The next day, it's 12 pm and and the old woman hasn't shown up yet. But her cup is there, with a piece of paper sticking out from under the saucer. Suddenly, a man of about 30 in a military uniform enters, his arms open. "Ma, I'm home!" He exclaims. He looks around, confused, and then his eyes focus on the pastel blue cup. He runs to it, reads the paper sticking out and then falls to his knees in a breakdown of tears. Rose, the waitress, glides over to him. "Er...... Excuse me sir, may I help?" She asks. At this point, everyone in the cafe is staring, when the military man turns to Rose and whispers: " She's dead." Chris sighs as he notices my confused face and tosses me the morning paper. The headline reads: "Local woman's spontaneous death" . I gasp and then wake up breathing heavily....