Cafe

Sheek, short, honey hair styled to perfection. An empty expression on her face as she waits in line for her coffee. Ear buds shoved in her ear showing her disinterest for interaction with those around her. Though her expression is unreadable an aura of impatience still surrounds her. She is not late for anything, but perhaps still a bit irritable from waking up. She will order her coffee and perhaps a muffin or scone and find the most secluded area of the café to prepare herself for the day. She has to keep up an image, she has people to impress. Time to put on her game face.

He sits at a table by the window. Like everyone else he is wearing a stylish winter coat. Gloves sitting neatly on the table in front of him. He has a paper and is reading an article somewhere in the middle. he has short black hair that is very professional looking. There is not a trace of a beard on his face. He seems to be somewhere in his mid thirties. Successful or at least on his way to becoming successful. He likes to know what is going on in the world. It gives him an edge.

You sit in the café as the coffee you ship chases away the fatigue of another nearly sleepless night. You block bustle of the world around you from your mind and focus on the bitter taste, a precious moment of reprieve. It’s so nice, that is until a cry comes from the baby carrier next to you. You watch as your husband reaches over and tries to comfort the child but you know he will be unsuccessful. The baby is hungry. Uncertainty, you glance around the cafe, everyone going about their business, only a few glances towards the source of the noise. Instinct and propriety war against one another in your mind. Hesitantly you take the baby from its father’s arms and lift your shirt. Everything is right in the world.

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