Scenes from a Coffee Shop

After procuring the spot — a four-seater facing the window — she sits solitary, nibbling a croissant that fails to satisfy. Despite it, she feels relaxed; refreshed; even excited for where the day will take her. One iced coffee quickly downed, she orders another. With time to kill she takes notes, skims a pamphlet and pauses to relish this simple moment to herself. Her gaze wanders outside.

An unlucky barista mans the sidewalk cart filled with gelato, ice-cold beverages and a carafe that advertises watered down Crystal Light as “Homemade Lemonade.” The owner steps outside for a smoke. He points, says something to the fresh-faced barista, and soon the young man squirts and squeegees the plastic counter top until any fingerprints are gone.

Coffee Shop

Most passersby continue on, not giving the small café cart a second glance. A few, however, stop for a treat and some relief from the heat. She observes it all silently from behind the glass, unnoticed.

The couple, with antique bike in tow, choose a can of Coke. The girl stands smiling, a wreath of bright-pink daisies rests atop her mane. The boy orders. His loose sleeveless tank looks as if it could use a wash — hair peeks out from all sides. The two struggle at the straw wrapper, then wave a friendly goodbye to the barista.

He stands and waits patiently behind the counter. She can tell he, too, is a seasoned observer.

Ms. Sourpuss steps up. She nods to the water bin and inquires, “how much?” Exaggerated distaste flashes across her face as she walks away.

A family of four — Italian — stops. Each one grabs at something different. For a second she thinks she’s been caught spying, but no. The daughter simply checks her own reflection, bumps her ponytail and then looks away satisfied. Mom requests a cup of ice for her orange-flavored San Pellegrino and lets her husband pay for their loot.

OK, that’s enough. “Check please.”

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