remote cards

We are sitting at writing group, however many of us can manage to come along to the cafe on a Sunday afternoon. There is a woman at the table behind me, who is here every week, friends of the staff, perhaps more. Last week one of her friends sat and chattered for a while, she talked some about her family. Sitting this week a young man and woman appear at the top of the stairs to the mezzanine part of the cafe, where we tend to head because its quieter. They grin at each other - she is here! The woman looks up surprised, as they thrust a bunch of flowers at her. The girl mutters to the guy, you could at least have taken the price off them first. Embarrassed he jokes, I wanted her to know we didn't get cheap ones. And they sit down and chatter about what else they've been doing, the delays in getting here, having been struggling to find particular biscuits their mother likes. She jokes about them doing a hit and run, expecting them to leave again instantly now that they've delivered the flowers. But no, they tell her off, sit down and order coffees to spend some time with her.