Scarlet Teacup

The fossil somehow managed to dodder his way into a booth. Margot’s approach confirmed her suspicion that the fetid stench arose from the cheek-sucking old invalid.

“What can I get you, hon?”

“Tea.” His palsied hands trembled as he placed a large copper coin on the table. “Please.”

“Buddy, do you need a doctor?”

He met her gaze directly for the first time. “I am furious, not ill. I would have you pilloried for such scandalous attire, exposing so much…” He indicated her skirted server uniform with a gesture, “Limb.”

“Just what century do you think this is, Bub?”

He paled. “That might be the fundamental question, I fear.”

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110 words, for this week’s Microcosms (Judge/Truch Stop/Sci-Fi).