The Person I'm Next To Scared A Child

I'm next to this lady. She has short styled hair, a bright yellow top with poofy shoulders and no sleeves. She is frantic, her eyes are darting back and forth, searching desperately. In the brief span me eating from inch two to inch three of my burrito, she has walked by my table 8 times. She must be lost? Or there is a bomb here somewhere.
A table down there is a kid playing with some sort of modern version of silly putty. He is pretty happy. Which is fair, that stuff looks cool. He is alone, i saw his mother go to use the restroom. Suddenly halting her pacing, the frantic woman slams her hand down on his table, and in a tense, loud voice she says, "Hey, is this Chipolte?" There should probably be an exclamation point in that last sentence. The kid looks around at all the signs that read Chipolte, all the soda pop cups that read Chipolte, all the bags, wrapper and burritos that read Chipolte. He looks at all the distinctive latin themed industrial furnishings, he looks at all the people eating burritos, nachos and tacos, he looks at all of the grown ups where any reasonable person would direct their questions. He looks scared, he shrinks down, and he nods. He is clutching his silly putty, untill it oozes out between his tiny clenched fingers.
The woman says nothing, but immediately walks into line. Then taps her foot impatiently. The kid hides from her in his booth till his mom gets out of the bathroom, and he runs to her before she even gets to the table.
The scary woman orders without looking at the menu.

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