Another Place and Time

Who Moved My Cheese, the quiet, studious type from yesterday set before her this afternoon at the same cafe table at the library—halfway along the row, right of the aisle.
         Hair-band, flounces over the blouse and somewhat lighter lippy than many her age favour. (The lasses here adopt more often than not.)
         Good, obedient daughter, if in the next year or two she doesn't jump a fast moving train.      
         Mouthing the new words like yesterday—that as much as the seating position and features gave the identification.
         On her side the panama making things easy.
         Various crowd. Old fellas from the neighbouring HDBs who lived through the Japanese occupation, office gals, after-school kids. Not all patrons of the library.
         Rather better than Starbucks and The Coffee Connoisseur.
         Westerners and foreign students. French in strength because of the corporate cluster.
         $4.50 latte—eschewed by the old timers who drink the local, dark kopi.
         ....Yes, the gal keen to improve her English. But this was not the main reason for that particular book. Fun the larger factor. A funny book.
         No disturbance, let alone nuisance.
         — It's really nice to chat to you.
         Unlikely the sweet will be clambering that runaway train, the bet at this stage.
         Where does a lass even in Malvern or Doncaster down there read the Cheese book at 15-16, I ask you?