We stopped at a café, dusty and tired. The glum waitress glared. Nearly knock-off time. She stood, unsmiling, notepad in hand, tapping her pencil. I determined to make her smile.
Photos of tiger cubs adorned the walls. As she wrote our order I commented. “I love your pictures, what’s the significance of the tigers?”
She said, still glowering, “I used to be a tiger tamer in the circus.” I tried to transfer her from here back to there. She lit up as she excitedly poured out her story.
Then, smiling, “I’ll get your tea.”