Mmmmmmm.
Hmmmmmm.
You’re in a dusty coffee shop that you just walked into for the first time. It’s late at night and you came in from the rain. No one inside makes any sense. It smells like day-old banana bread and you don’t care. It’s a coffee you have. Black. And that day-old banana bread, you’ll take that too, might as well, ‘Thanks‘. A table in the corner is where you sit. The flickering candle is taking its last breaths from the film of melted wax on the inside of the holder. The wax stinks and you slide it over to the side but don’t blow it out because it makes you feel warm and it casts curious shadows on the table etched with initials. Thunder rolls and a lone woman laughs before sipping from a steaming mug. You watch her mumble and wonder what. What is she saying?
Someone pushes the door open and comes in shuddering. His hood is on and you never see his face. The barista snaps her bubble gum and says two dollars. He leaves.
This song plays and the coffee shop swells and your toe taps. The man to your left turns the magazine page and smoothes the seam every time then takes a sip of his coffee. Turns the page, smoothes the seam, sips the coffee. Turns the page. Smoothes the seam. Sips the coffee.
A young woman sits four tables ahead. She’s staring out the window and clutching with two hands a mug she hasn’t taken a sip from…yet. Wait. She lifts it up. And puts it back down. The timing isn’t right.
The song ends and the last bite of banana bread goes down. The candle burns out. The lonely woman has closed her eyes. The barista is sitting on the countertop swinging her legs. The woman by the window has moved the cup to her lips now but sits frozen and still hasn’t taken a sip.
It’s time to go.
Home, you guess.
Interesting post.