I talk, She taps

 "I don't want to talk about work."

I scoffed at this, looking out over the dining tables out to the busy streets. People passing by her window, I wondered how many knew her clients.

"Then what do you suggest I do? Cry?"

"That's not- Ugh."

I watched as she stirred her drink quietly, her hand tapping the table at an even pace. She looked back and forth a bit before finally looking at me.

"I have a few days next week where I'll be a lot less busy. But, you realize that I can't do much, right?"

"I'm not asking for a favor, you know. Lucy's gone, I feel rubbish, and I'd just appreciate someone to talk to."

As she mulled this over, she continued to tap her fingers.

Tap. Tap. Tap.

"People don't complain to the ones who they want to fix their problems," I added, "They complain to the people who can't so they don't feel any expectation."

She pulled at her blonde hair, her sparkling pink nails intertwined with the many strands.

"Fine, but I'll be in Greece tomorrow. Is a phone call okay?"

"Yeah, that'll work. I'd appreciate it either way."

Her tapping hesitated for a moment as she looked at me, before resuming sipping her lemonade, barely a beat missed.

Tap. Tap. Tap.

"Cover your ears," she warned.

I did as I was told.

There was a flash from the kitchen, a sharp pop, and I could hear people scream.

Tap. Tap. Tap.