"Good morning!"
I looked up suspiciously at the sound of the cheery voice. Sounded like
somebody wanted to get busted for Inappropriate Cheerfulness. Judging by her
dress, she was after a Fashion Infraction, too.
"How are you today, dearie? Nice weather, isn't it? I'm looking for
somebody, can you help me?"
My eyes narrowed. The old lady had added Small Talk and Unsolicited
Endearments to her list of offences.
"Madam," I replied, "you are in a Police Station. Please watch your
language, or I'll be forced to restrain you. Now, who are you looking for?"
The lady's smile faded somewhat, and she leaned towards me conspiratorially.
"I'm looking for Jane Thrump," she whispered. "It's a matter of life and
death!" - glancing around to make sure nobody had heard her.
Over-Dramatisation. I was inclined to arrest her there and then, except that
the name she'd whispered was my own.

It was a perfectly ordinary afternoon on a perfectly ordinary sardine-style
peak-hour train. Rain spattered the windows, and the remains of sunset were
visible in the rapidly darkening sky. Joanne, my friend and colleague, stood
beside me chattering away in her usual fast-paced monologue of office gossip
and one-night-stands. She could be tiresome at times, and I had learned to
insert the appropriate "Uh-huh" noises while not actually listening to her
at all.