Café people

Write 100 words each on three people sitting around you.

  There’s a young guy in a leather jacket sitting a table away playing with the sugar sachets. On closer examination I discover we have ‘sweeteners’ so I suppose that’s what he has too. He lets out a bored sigh as though he wasn’t advertising his state clearly enough by his posture, and idly demolishes his crude building. He runs his finger around the rim of his colossal mug and hisses as he burns his hand, knocking over his teaspoon noisily in the process. Flushing, he kneels to retrieve it and misses his friend’s entrance.

  A pair of blondes sit together. They look alike and I’m inclined to say they’re related rather than just part of the same clique. One of the girls is sitting back stiffly with her drink, looking all the way across the room to stare out of the window. There’s an aura surrounding her that I find intimidating. All the same I can’t help sneaking admiring glances at her hollow cheeks and flattering make-up. She’s bundled in a navy designer jumper about two sizes too large and she’s had her straw in her mouth the entire time although I haven’t seen her swallow even once.

  The smilier blonde girl is humming an obscure song that I recognise and that makes me warm to her. She’s slim and attractive like the sophisticated girl I’m assuming is her sister but there’s something softer and more approachable about her. She’s wearing a closefitting, long-sleeved top and her hair’s straightened and highlighted. She looks well-kept but not as high-maintainance as her companion: possibly the effect of her pretty, white top in contrast to her ‘sister’s’ somewhat stern, dark outfit. She looks over in amusement whenever my friends laugh and she grins unabashed when I meet her eyes.

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