I sit down at the café for breakfast. Order a coffee and look at the menu. The door opens and she walks in, almost blown in by the wind. I look back at the menu and glance at her. Almost like clockwork I see her again the same time every morning.
She sits at the table across from me and fidgets with the tablecloth, straightening the edges and cutlery. I wonder if she knows I am watching her. She’s interesting to watch.
Waitress takes my order then hers; I strain to hear her voice. Just a few syllables but I want to hear more. She has an accent I cannot place.
Food arrives and she smiles at the server, she should always smile, makes her shimmer. She looks at me and I lower my eyes, caught staring is very rude in a café isn’t it?
I eat and watch her as she tastes each mouthful. My appetite builds just watching her pleasure. She picks up her coffee cup and takes a sip, I watch her lips as the amber liquid that must be touching her tongue by now. She closes her eyes as she sips, it must be good. Mine has grown cold watching her.
She intrigues me more as the seconds tick by.
We sneak looks between mouthfuls and sips. In sweet solitude we have shared yet another morning ritual in this familiar place. I look forward to tomorrow. Tomorrow I will have the courage to speak to her.