Meddle 4.2


Costume Design did a good job for this mission. Avery’s pale yellow bodysuit flows about her like she’s made of air. Her daisy hair clip says that she’s studied the latest trends. Stepping into the cafe, barely a single set of eyes clocks her appearance. No one suspects that she may be entirely out of her element.

“We’re full,” the host complains. “I. Am. So. Sorry! We just gave away our last seat!” The concern sounds genuine, but the look says, “Ew.”

The man is wearing swim trunks and a maitre d’s jacket. His sandles expose toes -not just the nails – painted pale green to match his fingers.

“Beatrice von Moomy will be so disappointed,” Avery says with a lilt to match her outfit. She gives the man a hard smile.

The man wilts beneath her gaze.

“Oh? But of course! I think I see a seat opening up right this very minute! What are the odds?”

“I wonder,” Avery muses.

The man aims himself in the right direction.

“This way, please.”

He saunters – nay, sashays – toward the patio doors, his sandals popping against his heels as he steps.


“May I present,” the host announces to a gaggle of Easter eggs around a glowing-purple Mother Goose, “Ms…”

He lets the words hang in the air.

“Avery Fulbright,” Avery says, stepping closer to the group and away from the shadow of the host.

Avery keeps eye contact with the plastic purple woman. She bows her head and gives a small curtsy.

“If it please my lady,” Avery applies.

“Such manners!” Moomy coos, her voice high and obnoxious. “I haven’t had the pleasure of your aquaintance. Fulbright, was it?”

“Avery, my lady. Please, do call me by my first name, won’t you?”

Avery takes a step closer. There is an open chair behind the rest. She offers a hand as request.

“Oh, Avery, of course! Thank you! And where might you be from, dear Avery?”

“I hail from the Yarna district,” she says with her head bowed. She takes a smaller step toward the seat. “My family saved their last credits to allow me one moment of your grace. It has been my only wish.”

“I see,” the Moomy chortles. “Your very one wish was to sit with me?”

The gaggle of bevvies titter.

“Oh, how delighted you must be!” Moomy exlaims joyfully.

“So very delighted!” a woman wearing pink declares. She is sitting two chairs away from her mistress.

“Delighted, yes! So delighted!” the other ladies rejoin.

Avery feins a blush and swallows her real reaction.

“There are no words, ma’am. No words to describe-”

“Yes,” the lady agrees, “but you will try for me, won’t you? Oh, do do us the honor of your lavish pleasantries?”

She flourishes a plastic hand.

“I insist…”


Categories: Fiction, Meddle

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