It’s Sunday, so the crowd is different from during the week.
I’m seated against the wall, watching as coffee drinkers file in.
There are two separate men, sitting in the only two easy chairs, both with laptops that to me, look like props since their eyes are darting, trying to make some connection with, whomever.
Makes one realize the difference between being lonely and being alone, me claiming the latter, a cheerful epiphany of sorts.
I do not make eye contact since it’s much too early for people pleasing, because I know, once I do, they’ll be prattling like parrots.
Next comes the young dad propelling the double stroller with a precocious, 3-year old in her fairy princess costume, and an infant sucking his thumb. The little girl, demands a good 8 items, he buys, I’m guessing, just to shut her up. I have sympathy for him since, he only gets to be dad on the weekends, while Mom, presumably, catches up on her sleep. They finally settle in a corner, gratefully, far away from me.
A 40ish couple comes in with a service dog…a white Labrador guarding her like a prison official. I look to see why she needs a canine companion, but seems normal, if you don’t count her eyebrows, arched in pencil, making her appear permanently pissed off.
The husband, after getting their lattes, sits at another table. They begin writing on dueling laptops while the dog, finally at ease, naps at her feet. What I notice most is, they never utter one word to each other.
It’s an ad for, is this what you think you’re missing…a body, a man slave, just someone to be there in case you need a refill?
I gaze over at dad who’s trying to control little Cruella who’s now throwing, what looks like pound cake, at him, in tears.
Poor guy, to think he thought he had it all, and he does, if you count those overpriced crumbs now stuck in his hair.