the woman with the floral print

I'm cleaning a table at the restaurant and an older woman, her short-sleeved shirt spotted with flowers, eyes hidden behind sunglasses, says hello. she has finished chewing her asparagus. she takes a sip of water. has it been busy here? yes, I say. it gets busy when the weather is nice. oh, that's good, she says, I can see that and that's good. this woman must have owned a pet rock in the 70's. she'd talk to anything, whether that anything was breathing or not. she needs companionship in a way that is sad.

because this economy, she says. it's not like it used to be. no it is not. I travel up-country and it's all bad, it's all hard to figure out. she is not talking about the economy. she is not talking about the weather. she is not talking about her clothes.there's no more going home, she says. you know that saying? yes. there's no more of that.