Special of the Evening

Sliding away from the patio umbrella stand, I noticed the cafe's illuminated brass menu case had its lower latch hanging half a notch loose. Leaving a warm, glass-fronted vitrine unlocked after dark is practically begging for an unscheduled feature. I slipped my flat frame through the bottom rubber seal, shimmying up behind the heavy cardstock dinner menu until my ears peeked cleanly over the 'Chef's Specials' header. With a dry flick of my yellow-gloved heel, I tilted a loose brass tack sideways, wedging myself upright like a freshly approved course. The overhead bulb cast my smirk straight down onto the sidewalk crowd. Prime evening showcase, completely off the bill.