And we build our house of cards and then we wait for it to fall, always forget how strange it is just to be alive at all

We were so wet from the sudden downpour that almost as soon as we'd been reintroduced to the concept of warmth our clothes began to steam and our hair began to frizz. Out and up. Ruth went to order coffee - a definite occasion for mocha, we both felt, and cake; but just the one piece between us, because things hadn't gotten so bad we were going to commit that social faux pas of having a piece of cake each. Thats very spinsterish behaviour *grins* I went off to lay claim to a pair of big purple armchairs and did the whole arduous task of shifting empty cups onto someone elses table, "Could you just take these for a second please? Super, thanks," * while ignoring the water pooling at my feet. Not like I could feel it anyway, right?
Ruth came to join me, we swore a secret pact that if anyone asked, we were, like, so not drinking chocolatey coffee. Just in case; the spinster boundary has some blurry edges **. We were beginning to look slightly loopy, giggling and whispering and obsessively trying - in vain - to smooth our hair down, and felt the need to resort to desperate distracting measures; What, she asked me, Is your favourite Renaissance stage direction?

He brains himself against the cage. She runs lunatic. Exits pursued by a bear. Endless fun.

She was sitting at a slightly scew angle, so she could 'watch the talent coming through that door', so she caught sight of him first, standing framed in the glass doorway; Is that Stuart? she asked me, taking advantage of my momentary dither attack to swallow half the cake in one swift swoop of the fork. I don't know how she does it, but I suspect it takes years of practice. He walked past us, shaking water from his hair as he walked to the bar; Ruth called him back - Stuuu-art! she called, long and low, and back he came.
I put my hat on, hair tucked up out of sight, and squinted up at him past the brim. "Hello lover," he said.
"Hey yourself," I said, cheeks slightly pink, before morphing into my best society hostess. "Now, Stuart, you simply must join us. Ruth and I know one another far too well, and we've exhausted all safe topics of discussion - soon, like it or not, we'll have to resort to talking politics. And we're far too sure of the other to traverse those waters safely."
"Uncertainty is the natural human state. What makes you think you're so special?" he asked, eyes glittering, his face pale from the cold, hard and motionless from something else, before turning on his heel and walking back out into the rain.

There was a very long pause.

"I forgot he did Philosophy in his first year at uni," I said, throwing my hat on the table and hiding behind wet tendrils of hair for a second. Then I apologised to the people on the next table for *forgetting* them with the empty cups. They were lovely. Very polite. I apologised, they apologised that I was apologising and I apologised for disturbing them, and they apologised for me feeling it necessary to apologise for disturbing them.
Hey, apologising worked social wonders for hundreds of years; Look, I'm sorry for colonising your country...

Then Ruth went and bought that second piece of cake.

"So, Renaissance stage directions," she said, as breezily as one can with a plastic fork in ones mouth.
"Hows about, 'Enter Giovanni with a heart upon his dagger?'"
"Hows about no?"
"Hows about, 'Enter Vindice with the skull of his love dressed up in tires?''"
"Oh, you're no fun anymore, dolly."



* Sometimes I can't help myself. I want to know how far strangers will let me impose. The answer to date is amazingly far.
** Have I killed it yet?