CALLIOPE TINDALE
Calliope Tindale sat in the far corner where she had a clear view of the entrance. She trusted nobody and had her reasons.
The waitress approached and said, ‘What’ll it be, luv?’
‘I trust nobody and have my reasons. Is the egg salad guaranteed fresh?’ answered Calliope.
‘Sure it is,’ said the waitress.
‘I don’t trust you. Bring me a glass of water, and keep in sight so I can see you pour it,’ said Calliope.
The waitress, Dot, went through an elaborate performance obtaining the water. She rolled her eyes at Al when he emerged from the kitchen. She indicated with a slight elbow jab Calliope seated in the far corner. She delivered the water to Calliope.
‘Who’s that guy? I don’t trust him,’ said Calliope.
‘It’s Al. He owns the place, ya know, like it says on the sign outside, Al’s,’ said Dot.
Calliope took a small sip of water and grimaced.
‘This is no good. There’s something in it,’ said Calliope, and she sprang to her feet and raced out the door.
‘Takes all kinds,’ commented Al.
Dot agreed with a nod.
Calliope Tindale fled to the nearest alley. She scurried to a trash bin, raised the lid, climbed in, lowered the lid, sank down, hugged herself, lowered her chin.
‘I trust nobody and have my reasons,’ she murmured.
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