As her toddler son, Harris, skips away from their table to get her some sugar, she looks out of the window and sighs while passing a black comb through her hair. She is exhausted, the tiredness of recent motherhood is written all over her face. The strap of her white top falls off her shoulder as she leans into her newborn’s stroller, he has finally stopped crying and sleep is slowly taking over him. She sits back up, slowly sips on her coffee and takes a bite from her brownie. Harris comes back and keeps trying to grab her attention, she occasionally nods at him but very rarely makes eye contact. It is clear to see that she needs a break, and this might be the only break she gets today. He slowly gives up trying to get her involved in his stories and starts playing on his own. She sighs again, takes another sip of her coffee and opens a magazine. Their table is quiet.
He is holding his cup in both hands right in front of his nose and mouth, his eyes peeking over his coffee look distant and pensive. He has been sitting like this for a few of minutes, completely lost in thought. On his table lie his glasses, upside down, and an empty plate. There is a white napkin sitting on his beige trousers and his legs are crossed at his ankle showing his navy blue socks. His thoughts come back in the present moment and as he realises that his coffee has gotten cold he quickly takes a long sip, emptying his cup. He puts the cup back on the table, intertwining his fingers on his lap and turns his head back to the nearest window, losing himself in his thoughts once more.
She is rushed and seems out of place in this calm coffee shop. She is not here to take a break and enjoy a coffee, she is here to work. She takes half of a sandwich, coming from a Tesco meal deal, out of her turquoise and hot pink bag and eats it at a rapid speed while scribbling something in her agenda. Her movements seem to be sharply calculated: sip of coffee, note in agenda, bite of sandwich, tap on phone, repeat. Not once does she look up, not once does she slow down. There is a nervousness radiating from her body, just looking at her makes me feel like I have to rush. When she finishes her sandwich she takes her notebook in her right hand and uses it to precisely wipe the crumbs off her table, one horizontal wipe, one vertical wipe. When her table is clean she puts her notebook back on the table and gets back to her coffee, doing all of this without looking up once.