I watch,
as people come and go—
the door chimes,
a constant in the flux of arrivals and departures.
Hoods drawn back,
umbrellas collapsing with a sigh,
coats shedding raindrops
like memories too heavy to carry.
A play on repeat,
different actors, the same script.
Here, in my corner table,
time blurs—minutes or hours,
under the monochrome sky,
the city pauses,
isolated,
adrift from the pulse of the world.
Coffee pours, unbidden,
the waitress, a silent specter,
filling half-empty cups,
sometimes unseen,
as my gaze lingers on the streets outside,
shrouded in rain’s melancholy veil.
Lost in a wandering though,
a shadow approaches.
Expecting the routine offer,
I cover my cup,
words of refusal ready.
But the voice that greets me
is not the one I expected;
it’s a note from a forgotten song.
“Sorry, may I join you?”
Lifting my eyes,
I meet hers—
a figure cloaked in black,
her smile, a break in the clouds,
and just like that,
the sun.
