Edna and Dabs each had a cup of coffee in their hands. Dabs used his only as a hand warmer, his mind revolving around the proposal, while something else nagged at him. Edna’s lips flapped high, like an eagle, above her own awareness, letting her coffee go cold.
“You see I’ve got big plans, and they don’t include this shit-hole!” A window slammed shut on that comment. She rolled her eyes and continued to spin her monologue. Dabs fought his eyelids and kept his hands securely around his cup. “…I’d love to take my hats around to these craft fairs they have down south. You see. This was Henry’s dream not mine… She chugged along with her story her words rolled over his turn in the conversation.
Looking like he was listening, Dabs flipped through his mental Rolodex; yes, Henry was the dead husband with an award winning chili recipe. Dabs glanced at the pot simmering on the stove. Bet that’s not the exact same recipe as Henry’s. His lips curled with the sarcasm.
“So each hat has a theme. You see, people dress around the calendar. You wouldn’t wear the same hat at the forth of July as you would at Christmas would you?”
She waited. The silence slapped Dabs took into the conversation. He shook his head,” No, of course not.” (Even though, he did wear the same top hat all year round.) After all he was still the same height all year round, thus the hat always had purpose. Satisfied Edna went on and pushed Dabs back into his daydreams. The bells on the door rang as a blonde girl walked in. Toting a well-loved composition book with decoupage images, she went around the counter and helped herself to a cup of coffee. Dabs watched her find a seat by the window.”
There’s something odd about this girl. Dabs failed to place it but the question was way more interesting than Edna’s haberdashery. The girl leaned on her elbows as she watched the creeks current.
It’s not her clothes. And she’s average build, maybe a little skinny but not too terribly. Then the girl turned her head.
Oh my, the girl has a forehead doesn’t she?