Bright Lights, Big City.

"YOU ATE THE BERRIES! How was I supposed to make mother's famous fruit trifle without the blasted BERRIES?" A woman's shrill voice resounded through the near empty diner.

"Oh this again! I bloody well said I was sorry, didn't I?" Another raised voice, this one a males warm baritone, met the first.

From where she stood, a redheaded waitress dressed in a uniform that was far too small for her, courtesy of her perverted boss, had a clear view of the argument.

She watched as the woman ignored him and continued on with her incessant nagging, while the man sat looking extremely weary.

The waitress mirrored his weariness, fiddling with the top of her uniform which was fit to burst at any moment. Light flashed off her name tag, illuminating the engraved 'Ginevra'.

The arguing couple had been sitting at the booth since the early dinner crowd that was usually composed of senior citizens. It was now half past nine.

"Bloody unbelievable!" The man continued to grumble. They were the only people left in the tiny diner. With an impatient sigh, Ginevra glanced at her watch for what was surely the fifth time in the last minute. The cook stuck his head out the delivery window motioning her to hurry it up and shut the place down. It was finally ten o'clock.

Ginny, as she preferred to be called, made her way over to the bickering couple and cleared her throat from where she stood at the mans elbow.

"Do you mind miss?" He grumbled indignantly, "We're having a domestic."

"We're closed," Ginny ground out, fighting every urge to toss down her apron and never come back to this horrid job.

The woman at the table tossed her a dirty look at the unwelcome interruption.

Nevertheless, her counterpart rose, reaching for his billfold.

With the door securely locked behind the still bickering couple, Ginny leaned against it.

She was fairly certain she'd still be able to hear them clear up the street. She turned the open sign round to closed, running a hand through her hair, the vibrant red sparkling in the dull lighting. Slowly she made her way to the table, grabbing a near by bus tub and began sorting the mess. It seems that any notion she harboured about the man having felt badly about their behaviour to leave her a large tip was unfounded. She glowered down at the scattered coinage, cursing the nesh tosser and his stroppy cow.

She looked left, right and centre, hoping to spot a straggling bill. No such luck. With a resigned sigh she lugged the full tub back to the kitchens.

"What are those two chuffed about?" The cook queried as she entered the kitchen, tossing

her towel down.

"Oh he nicked one of her chips. She wasn't happy about it."