An Appointment

 

In the bright Café Shop in all its color and glory, she sat across him,

Her quivering mug trapped by her quivering hand.

“Take your time” he soothed, like the perfect gentleman he was.

What is fear? How do you fear when the cause of fear is but a source of comfort?

An unexpected appointment it was, an appointment with an eternal consort.

Although the moment was far too right, she had the will to say:

“I don’t like debts” as her old, wrinkled eyes bore into his kind, kind ones.

Placing her meagre savings on the white ebonite stand,

She then took up Death’s waiting hand.