Monday saw

    Monday had the young bartender scrambling for something missing. She searched in drawers and buckets, mumbling about Gin aplenty Limes afew and shot glances back to the dashing young customer and his trashy young date. Nobody his age orders a gin and tonic because they like it. They do it to look cool and mature. Sure enough, he would take sip and sit back, looking very relaxed while she giggles and smiles for $5 plus tip.
    And that's what happened, minus tip. Jerk.
    She finished washing glasses while he went onabout himself to every girl within earshot. Monday nights were slow, but this was miserable. The only other person was some frat-boy in the back from some out-of-state college, probably home for break. Ordered a beer (any) and sat down with his phone. Might as well go get his glass, too.
    As she walked closer, she was actually quite impressed with what she saw. He was cute, and very well-dressed underneath that gaudy red jacket. He looked up as she approached and handed her the glass with a smile - the kind of smile that wants to start up a conversation.
    "So what school you coming from with ugly colors like those?"
    "Someplace in upstate New York with warm folk and frigid exes."
    She laughed. Loudly. Then checked herself. She wasn't expecting to actually laugh. It wasn't even a very good joke, just, something about his face as he said it...
    "How about you?" He said with another confident smile, pulling up a chair for her. "You go to any kind of school?"
    "Did. Didn't make it. Came back home, now I'm back living at mom's apartment under her oppressive kindness."
    He laughed, politely, but with a note of sincerity at least.
    The door slammed and her attention shifted. Apparently, that young couple was too hip for this scene. Now, there was absolutely no work to be done, save for washing the one glass in front of her. She'd. Get it later, once she felt like getting up.
    "So your name's Ezra?" She said, reading the jacket. "Cool name. I'm Bernice."

Helga gave II

  Izzie was not content to sit in silence. He stopped talking just long enough to realize that this old lady was too absorbed in her craft to be entertaining. He wasted no time in asking her for a story. It was the kind of tactless request that only a child is capable of. Brazen, even. He wore his eyebrows heavily, and his mouth opened unnecessarily wide. His grampa told stories every time, and so should she, because he liked it when old people told stories.

  She put on exaggerated airs of respect as she agreed. She promised him that her stories were even better than grampa Chase's. Many a night had seen the two of them swapping life experiences until they both trailed off into dreams. Those nights were fun, but far between. She could never settle down to a single lover, and never wanted any man.

  Suddenly she smiled a wicked, curling smile and allowed her hands to pause their work to savor her idea. "How about I tell you a story that your grandfather told me but once so late at night?" The boy, suddenly frightened by this menacing visage, gulped down his apprehensions and agreed. Her smile grew wide and thin as she hissed a story out through serpent-lips. "It's a story about your father, from when he and your mother first met."

Helga gave, part I

  Helga gave her seat to the little boy who was climbing on the backs of all the other chairs. By the time she had pulled up another nice chair to sit alongside him, he was already monkeying around on that one. Ah well, there's no sense in trying to alter youth. Instead, she pulled out old pair of crochet hooks she kept in her bag and got to work on a project she had started a long time ago.
  The boy was apparently named Izzie, and he was here to visit his grandpa Chase. She knew Chase, but so did everybody; he had quite the personality for making friends. She had met his son, too, though she couldn't remember his name. Ezra, the boy said, proud to know his father's first name. He went on that his mother's name was Bernice, and gave Helga a full spectrum of trivial information about his family, where they live, what kinds of restaurants they go to, how they celebrated his last birthday, and other things that allowed Helga to idly smile while she passed the time and crochet.