Annette

In a bookshop, I have to be prompted to enter my PIN.  'I'm sorry, I was half-asleep', I say, waking from my daydream.  'That's perfectly acceptable, it's a Saturday afternoon', replies the shop assistant.  She has a dark fringe and her hair is tied in a bun.  Her grey cardigan is held together by a porcelain clasp with a painted lady in 1920s garb.  She is wearing green eyeshadow.

Appreciating her good humour, I ask my question.  'It's after my mum's mother', she says.  'Your granny?' I ask, checking my genealogy.  'She died before I was born', she says, 'so I didn't call her granny.  But that was her name'.