Coffee Shop

I am drinking nothing at the moment on this fine Thursday morning. I do hope your coffee is delightful. It’s what I think. Its how I feel…

I am drinking nothing at the moment on this fine Thursday morning. I do hope your coffee is delightful. It’s what I think. Its how I feel. I wonder if the lady behind the counter has lost it yet or whether she is going to turn around and toss the boiling pot int this man’s face.

She turns with a large grin. Knuckle white grip on the Handle.

“Your cup of coffee will only come black. Is that ok?” she replies ignoring his snide remarks.

I sit in my corner tracing the edges of her waist. There is a gymnastic-like grace to the way she swishes and turns behind the small dinner. Her eyes are dead, the humor from her smile lost somewhere in translation.

I am wondering whether or not she is going to ask him again or try to explain. As he remarks about how stupid it is he can’t put sugar in his coffee.

I want to kick him in his throat because of his tone. This too rich, too privileged, always late, always gotta have it my way bitch-made white boy from money. Well, that's an assumption right but man …