You could see nothing through the window until a tapping began at the glass, a grey leafless branch, and you wondered what makes someone sit at a window table when it’s dark outside. You had to ask for another glass of water, yours was filled with hair. While you waited you didn’t know what to do with yourself. The shag carpet was green. You were looking at the dirt under your nails when you heard conversation from the next table over, something about a man’s ears. You took a drink from your new glass and were surprised to find it was orange juice, not water at all. When you called this to the waitress’s attention, she apologized sweetly but said it would be good for you, and you noticed for the first time that her necklace held a gold pendant that said Eat Shit.