I walked out onto the patio with a glass of wine in my hand. On a bench was a young woman smoking a cigarette. I sat across from her and said hi. We talked for a little bit then she said to me,
“Can you do me a favor?” and I said “Sure.”
She was a lady, after all. If maybe a bit young, unshapely, frizzy hair up in a bun (it was a wet winter)—at least she wasn’t a man.
“Can you get me a glass of wine?” she asked me.
“Oh…Sorry, no. I can’t.”
“Oh…Okay then. It’s just, I started this cigarette, and forgot to get my drink, and–”
“Wait, how old are you?”
“Oh! Okay. I though you were, like, sixteen, and you snuck in, and you were trying to get me to buy some shit, and I’m not going off to jail or anything. Who knows these days…”
“Oh! Haha, no, no, not at all…God, thank you! I didn’t know I looked so young. That makes me happy. I just was smoking and now here I am, and I can’t go inside…”
“Alright, well, you got cash? What do you want?”
“Yeah, uhm,” she fumbled through her bag, “here’s five, get me a glass of the house white—it’s exactly five.”
I went inside, bought her the wine (the bartender smiled at me, remarking how quick I had finished my drink), and went back outside.