I think it was the sensation that everybody in that restaurant would rather be somewhere else, time skipping over Burns. Or it might have been more a sense that we were interrupting rituals, long held: the dollar lady playing cards expressionless, winning or losing, who knew. The older woman in the front corner, pensive, immersed in her own world, yet framed in the window blinds like a painting, an invitation for all to ponder with her.