Supernatural Aid

   I sees her again. I surely was not expecting that. This town, this time of year, this plague we all find ourselves laboring under? Nope, was not expecting that. I sits at this restaurant, see? And I goes to have my meal. Bangers underfoot, dogs running around, whole placed messed up, but none of that’s new, and no one else is open, rainy day like today.
   Neither big nor fancy, a lot deeper than it is wide, got tables on either side and nothing down the middle. Magazine posters on the wall. Place stinks of baijiu, but that can’t be helped either. Got a table of locals bumping each other back there getting bleary. Fuck em, I just sit.
  “Please,” says a boy, gesturing at the tabletop. One beat too slow that kid.
  “Yeah, okay,” says me. “Oh, super.”
   Fellow has followed me in. Grinning fool. Wrapped in a filthy coat. He slides into a chair by the door and hangs off the back of it to watch.
   I make like I’m looking at the laminated menu. I order anyway. Minute later the smallest woman in the world arrives beside me. She hoists a greasy jug onto the table. It has to sit awkwardly beside me because I have to wait on the cups. The kid extracts some clear plastic jobbies from a long cellophane bag and gives me his thumb.
  “Thanks,” I say. And they bug out.
   So I have lots of eyes on me in that little place.
   Guy at the back table bellows. Woman, clad in black, passing the windows. She comes back. And that’s her again. Grinning fool watches her come in too.
   Is it her, though. This wan-faced chick doesn’t have that same life. Bronzed hair. Vacant. She steps by.
  “Beauty girl,” says the grinning man.
   Definitively out of place. Gold hair, flat and lank. Quilted polyester jacket, shiny neon pink, cinched at the waist. About her hips she has some plastic decoration that flares. The grinning man points at me and guffaws.
   She walked straight past.