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The Dime
"Honestly, I don't know what to make of it," Elenor said, bringing the china cup to her lips. There was a fant ringing sound as she struck the lip of the cup against her teeth, but that was her way of showing a disapproval she wouldn't voice. "You'd think the world would have some sense of stability these days." She brought the cup down to the saucer with one hand, the other keeping her wide-brimmed hat firmly planted on her head.

Agatha stared out to the sea through her wide, blue glasses. Though she had spent all morning adding the perfect amounts of honey and lemon, she had yet to take a sip of her tea. "The only thing that is constant is change," she murmured, watching the sea like a new threat.

"Yes, yes, if anyone understands that, it's we two, dearie. No need to go about slinging fortune cookie sayings when you've got nothing else." Still fighting the wind tugging at her hat, Elenor tried to take another sip, but when it proved too difficult, she bit her lip and snapped her fingers. A servant appeared, taking the one step up to the small white square that bore the table, two chairs, and two ladies. Elenor put the hat in his hands. "I want the purple one. Today is a purple day."

"Why is that?" Agatha muttered, still watching the ebb and flow. The servant took off slowly down the beach, away from the lonely oasis of the two women on a white square.

"Just look, dearie!" She pointed out to the waves, which bore an assortment of gloves, umbrellas, and shoes all afloat. "Definately a purple day. Don't quite know what to make of it."

"We know excactly what to make of it," Agatha said, pushing her glasses up the bridge of her nose.

"Of course we do, dearie. But that's just what you say, on occasions like this." She raised the cup to her lips, heard the chime of tooth against china. "Don't know what to make of it at all."


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