Judith’s head came up from the coffee she was stirring. “What do you mean—sesame bagel? You never have the sesame bagel. What happened to the fruit Danish?” Cynthia shrugged. “I just feel like having something different.” Judith shrugged too. “Well, make mine the raspberry Danish,” she informed the young woman who waited for their orders. “I’m sure what was good last week will be good this week too.” Cynthia felt that the glance thrown her way held a bit of reproof. “I didn’t say I was trading in my kids,” she stated with some annoyance, “just ordering a sesame bagel.” “You’re getting restless,” Judith countered. “Not restless. I’ve been having a fruit Danish for years.” “That’s just the point. Why—?” “Do I have to go on ordering the same thing every Saturday for the rest of my life?” she asked, agitation giving an edge to her voice. She stared at Judith, her jaw set. Why are we even discussing this? she wanted to say. Judith stared back, then laughed.
