Hand Me My Coffee, He's at My Table

"There's a man at my table."

"What?"

"A man. He's at my table."

"So?"

"He's at my table!"

"So pick another table!"

"I can't! I've been sitting at that table for three years, ever since I found this place, and I can't break tradition! I've got a streak! I can't break it now! Not after so long!"

"Then go sit down with him."

Nora's mouth, opened, then closed. "Oh. Okay."

She walked over, put her cup on the table, and slid into her seat.

"Hi." she said, glancing awkwardly at him, then away, then back to him. He looked up.

"...Hi," he mumbled.

"You're at my table," she informed him. "So I'm going to sit here. You can, too. But I'm going to."