Coffee Shop Talk

It’s as if everyone who spent yesterday outside in the sunshine is inside today. While raindrops spatter on the glass then slide to the sidewalk, the man by the window tries to sell insurance to a couple. They stare at him perplexed when he says I don’t want to hear…I don’t want to have that conversation. And I think: let’s have that conversation. He suddenly packs up his briefcase and says I have to go, leaving the couple stunned. Across the room, two men, one wearing a Fidel Castro kind of hat, are chatting and laughing, the way it should be in a coffee shop. For the man, four tables over it’s a gloomy day. He’s bored, has nothing to do but scroll up and down his phone, hoping something will change. Two young women at the table next to his are taking pictures of their food. And I think: make him happy email the photos to him. A woman smiles at me. She can’t decide where to sit. She walks there…here…there again…back to here. She asks if she can have the seat next to me. I say yes. She sits and dials a number on her phone and has a conversation on speaker. And I think: should have said no. A girl walks in and glances at me. And I think: noisy eater, no, hmmm…could be…might be…maybe. She chooses the leather sofa chair, takes a bite of her bagel and chews. I hear her—noisy eater from a week ago. Then there it is: In the middle of the chatter, chewing and racquet of the coffee grinder. In the middle of unknown songs and lyrics on the sound system, comes Spencer Davis Group’s, “I’m A Man.”

 

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