Fresh Pot

The click and the clanks constant and abrupt. Interrupting my eavesdropping. The delightful noise drowned out sweet mummers and giggles of the gals that sit so close I can almost smell the sweet lavender that they bathed with this morning. This place of hardwood floors and rustic tables so old and popular. It is very apparent that this place was once a local drug store. The symbols on the tables and one on the floor. Also the sign that hangs with pride. People flowing in and out rapidly. Two now. Skin and bones she has bad posture and short hair. Dull colors she wears. Ass the man in the red sweater rubs her back. She graciously ignores him as he tries to grab her attention not wanting to be touched, not wanting to be talked to. She gives in and her buggy eyes look up at him quickly with a faint smile. Bringing her coffee up to her lips slowly she stops and whispers something to the man quietly. Just now hearing the faint squeak of her petite voice mentioning something about possibilities. Her posture revealing a sense of insecurity. A unhealthy figure yet a bit of her tummy is revealed. Now four. Her ears still peek out of her short hair, and a subtle petite nose, she looks as though she could be a fairy. If she were I would name her Lelo. A cute old man appears from the backdoor little glasses rest upon his face and her wears an unfitting baseball cap. Confident in his work he heads out the front door with an empty dolly. The clicking of heals against the wood floors and the faint sound of the door fluttering shut, the music that was droned out and added to the sweet sounds of busyness drifted away. The awkwardly skinny lady and her other moved to a table out of sight. As the music reappears a richer old man steps in with his rebus woman somewhat out of place yet joyful and wide awake. The little old man stands on the opposite corner where all the commotion exists under a quaint old clock. I admire his presence. He goes through his paper work waiting for a coffee maker to come sign so he can be off. Even though he longs to stay and enjoy a cup of coffee and a bit of conversation. The cute little girl that sits quietly in front of me eating her doughnut. One leg under her butt and another cant quite reach the floor. The heater feels nice on my back. A young man walks in a baseball cap on, a chain, jersey and Nikes. Not quite like the others here. Ten now. The young man walks out impatiently so I thought come to find out only to retrieve money. A lady with a cute puppy waits in line, the dog edger to retrieve the little girls crumbs. Many people, someone at every table. I wonder if someone will invite himself or herself to join me. Now only two. The sounds raise higher, laughing and talking combined with the clicks and clanks and the beat of the music. My presence within this place is limited I have no understanding of what is to come. Out of quite coincidence the young man same as before asks to join me. I don’t refuse opportunity for a new conversation then just with myself. After he settles in stirs his tea then gives me his name. Donovan. Then asks for mine in return. Small talk begins of the adorable little girl sitting close, then off into many tangents. Much learned about such a stranger. He gets up to use the restroom. A wooden duck lands on the floor. Three now. He returns with a paper and something about the seals. A friend of his joins us at the small table and introduces himself. Broody? I could not hear me that well behind all the pleasant noise. Unsure of how much to interest myself in there conversation.

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Tristan & On said...
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