Sitting on a large comfortable looking couch, a mousey woman stares at the entrance and appears to be eagerly waiting for someone to arrive. Her small figure looks as if it will sink into and be eaten by the enormity of the couch. Is that why she sits on the very edge? Maybe if she sat right back her feet wouldn’t touch the ground. She has long, dark greasy hair that falls in messy ringlets over her small shoulders. She’s holding a large cup of something and seemingly struggles to bring the cup up to her mouth with her small frail hands.
A young girl, probably a student, is sitting at a large table surrounded by books and papers; she’s feverishly copying something out of her book. She has a massive tacky gold ring on her finger, (which must be awkward when writing), matching gold bracelets and large gold hoop earrings. Her eyes are meticulously painted black with a sweeping shade of purple and her face is caked with foundation, which is more noticable when she frowns her eyebrows. The solid clinking of the bracelets in perfect harmony with the movement of her writing reminds me of the rhythmic sound of a metronome.
A tall slender man enters, wearing dark denim jeans, a bright, shiny black jacket and a warm looking red scarf. He stands impatiently in the queue waiting to be served and finally takes a seat in the far corner by the window. He mechanically takes out his phone from his coat pocket and lays it on the table parallel to his drink, he then carefully unfolds a copy of the Evening News and immerses himself completely behind it, almost as if he were hiding, avoiding other people, only coming out to take calculated sips from his coffee and to check his phone for messages.