THE OLD WOMAN AT THE CORNER TABLE

Christopher H. K. Persaud

Penelope had only just started her job as a waitress at the quaint little café that was located a couple of blocks from where she resided in lower Manhattan, New York. She had moved recently from Chicago and found the transition to life in the “Big Apple” somewhat overwhelming.

For the third day in a row, Penelope noticed a shabbily dressed old woman purchase a cup of coffee and then retire to a small table in a corner of the café. She sat there for at least half an hour each day and stared contemplatively through the huge glass panel that formed the front of the store. She was motionless most of the time. After scrupulously drinking her coffee, she would get up, oblivious to what was going on around her, and quietly leave the café.

“She comes in here about three times a week,” the new manager told Penelope. “Does the same thing each day. The other customers try to avoid her. Not that it bothers her. She heads for an empty table in the corner of the café, sits with her cup of coffee, and just stares out into the street!”

One morning the old woman came to Penelope’s register and ordered her usual cup of coffee. She began fumbling through her pocket, took out some coins, and placed them on the counter — fifty cents in all; the price of a cup of coffee. Penelope asked…