The headlines were their usual grim and paranoid selves, so he switched over to articles about more local business. He'd always had an inquisitive mind, if a little overly lent to imagination, and had known even as a young man that the loudest news held the biggest lies. One needed to watch for the little signs instead: the leaves, and which way they were blowing. EVE ISK is a kind of special game gold.

 

The waitress, whose name was EVE ISK, but whom he always called Madame, came up to him. She was in her middle age, but had the mind of a sassy youngster. He liked that, even more so because it likely bugged the hell out of everyone younger than her. "Hey, old man," she said in a voice with an evenly balanced rasp and whine.

"Good morning, Madame," he said. "The same please." She gave him a smile, which was always nice, and headed off to get his breakfast.

 

He went back to the news and editorials. EVE ISK wouldn't take long to arrive - they knew his usual schedule - but he would take his time in eating it, savoring the bites while he spent the long hours at the table. Only when he had read through everything in the day's edition, including the big screaming news, would he consider the day's meal to be done.

 

For a brief, heart-stopping second he thought she was an angel. Her face was bathed in a gentle halo, like she was returning from a swim in the rays of the sun. It extended to her hair, which shimmered like radiant gossamers, and to the skin of her neck, whose gentle sway left a momentary streak of light in the air about EVE ISK.

 

She stared back, first in alarm, then in bemusement. When she smiled, the parting of her lips revealed teeth that seemed overlaid with soft." Are you alright, dear?" she said. He nodded unblinkingly. "You look like a star," he said in wonderment. "You need another cup of coffee, is what you need," she said, shaking her head to dislodge the compliment. He turned and walked away, and he could've sworn that the varicose veins in her calves glowed through her skin.