Dahlia sat up on the counter.
"Talk to me," said Mr. Kratzin. "You're acting like you're possessed."
"No," said Dahlia. "Not possessed. I'm still me. It's more like I'm remembering things, very old things that I never knew."
"Like what?"
"Like my Lord."
"Who? And why now do you remember? All of a sudden? Is it the bleeding?"
"Because He just walked in," she said.
Donald was walking to Sarah's table. Sarah had heard the conversation at the counter, and now the Lord was reaching out His hand to her. Having no idea what to do, she did what was expected. She shook it.
"Donald Uffizi?" she asked.
"Yes. And..."
"I'm Sarah. Sarah Fowler."
"Nice to meet you." He sat down.
"Likewise."
Dahlia stood at the table. "May I take your order?" she asked.
"Well, I just got here," said Donald.
"I'll wait."
"You're bleeding," he said and he touched her sleeve. She took a step back.
"The pain," she whispered to herself. And then, to him she said, "I think I just stopped. Thank you."
"Can I have a minute to decide what I want?" he asked.
"Of course," said Dahlia, so patient and wise. She walked back to the counter and helped Mr. Kratzin restore order there.
"I'm not sure we should eat here," said Sarah. "That waitress is some kind of psycho."
"I did see her sitting on the counter when I came in," he smiled with amusement.
"She was lying down on it before." Sarah laughed when she said this. Fear had turned to laughter. There was no question now that they would eat here, that here was as safe as anywhere else, that they would laugh and enjoy this meal together.