the writing assignment

smith was wearing a cool linen suit and a dandelion in his lapel when he swung his red-tipped cane to the north, finding the old brick sidewalk and a leg of the chair penny sat poised in. she glanced up from that morning's paper to find the dapper gentleman bowing his apology in her general direction and tipping a hat that he wasn't wearing.

"please sit," she said, lightly kicking chair across from her, which he briefly marked with his hand before setting himself on its plane surface.

"a lovely morning for breakfast outside," he gestured to the sky and unwittingly smacked the waiter who was approaching from behind. "a thousand apologies, my dear!" he said to the form that was now lingering next to the table. "i fear the wind took my hand."

"don't worry about it," said the slightly gruff voice of the offended party. "i'm adrian and i'll be taking care of you."

"good heavens," smith replied, looking surprised and amused at once. "nothing for me, thank you. i trust my lady friend has been, as you put it, 'taken care of?'" he gestured again, this time toward penny ... his sleeve dragging through a bit of powdered sugar where her donut had been.

"yes, i'm fine thank you," penny smiled and touched smith's hand, which he then returned it to the table.

the disinterested waiter hooked his unused pen to his apron and retreated as his internal radar informed him that the table of teenagers in the corner was, once again, attempting to set fire to their tablecloth.

"tell me, love, what's the latest dish?"

"oh, smith," penny said folding the news in her lap and taking his hand across a plate of eggs. "i'm afraid the critics have panned your performance again."

"damn," he said as he turned around in time to see adrian threaten the table in the corner with the business end a fire extinguisher.