Runaways, by Fliss Zakaszewska

Daniel and Tricia ran past the waitress, through the open door and out of the café.

“Oi!” she called as she waved the bill, turning to walk to the table.

Helen sighed as the woman approached her. They surveyed the detritus on the table; the remains of three Very Filling All-Day Breakfasts (as claimed on the blackboard).

“Left you to it, did they?”

“Huh-huh. And not for the first time.”

The woman started to clear the table. “Smokers, eh! Can’t wait, can they?”

Helen grinned. “I know, but I’ve learnt. I get the money out of them before we order!”


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