Saturday, noonish. Three beautiful young women sit around a table in a cafe. Two of the three girls work there; as one of them waits for the next walk-in customer, she knits. One of the three does needlepoint.
Though the day outside is cold, two of the girls are dressed delicately, in flowing skirts and dark tights. Needlepoint Girl wears a petticoat with her flowered skirt. The third, her blond hair bobbed, wears jeans under a soft tunic.
Blond Cafe Girl describes a recent vacation. “It kicked ass,” she says softly.
“We watched open-heart surgery. In an operating theater. Six hours. With a chest spreader, like everything.”
“Awesome,” says Needlepoint Girl.
Knitting Cafe Girl nods vigorously. “I’ve donated my body to science,” she adds.
“Really?” says the blond. “That’s so great.”
“Right?” Knitting Cafe Girl smiles. “They’ll pull back the sheet, and have like this fully-tattooed cadaver to dissect.”
All three girls smile.
“That’s such a gift,” says Needlepoint Girl.
“It is,” agrees Knitting Cafe Girl.