"Sir, who's that?" A young man asked the manager, pointing at a very old lady sitting in a small booth alone. The Saturday moonlight glittered through the frosty windows.
"Her?" He pointed at the same lady. The man nodded, even though it was obviously a rhetorical question. "I am not authorized to tell you."
It was a wonder that this handsome, young and very well muscled man was paying attention to such an old, seemingly insignificant lady.
"Please sir, just her name." He tried again. The manager was also very old, in his early eighties. He hesitated.
"We don't know." Reluctant, he continued. "I started working here, at the stork club, when I was just just 10, as a dishwasher. One Saturday, in the middle of the war, she came into the restaurant and didn't eat anything, didn't meet anyone and never spoke. Each Saturday she comes, she has never missed one." The mans eyes narrowed.
"Thanks, sir." He was sure now. It was her. He slowly walked towards her table, checking his watch. Eight o'clock. He reached her table and opened his mouth, about to tell her 'Wonderful weather we're having today.' When she spoke first.
"Your late." She croaked. Stunned, he checked his watch. It was 8:01.