Four Cafes
Four Cafes
Winter mists swirl up from puddles on the cobblestones blurring the names of the four cafes facing the narrow boulevard. Townspeople and visitors walk briskly with their heads down, collars up, against January’s invading chill.
From my apartment window I gaze hypnotized as people scurry through invading night like fallen leaves.
Madeleine and her small son, in a shopworn cap, wait outside darkened How Wheat It Is for day old bread. Breakfast.
Light from the bistro next door, scattered through the raindrops, makes prisms. A couple, identities disguised by distance, celebrate new love over chardonnay in bright blue like a rain painting reflecting on the street.
Old Charles slowly pushes open the heavy doors of Four Seasons Café, white paper box, leftovers for lunch in his apartment next to mine, clutched in arthritis molded hands. His apartment still smells of Marie’s Bellodgia and Arpege.
A golden glow scampers into warm corners of dimly lit Aubergine’s at the end of restaurant row where Jacqueline, Michelle and Annette share secrets of young women over rich expresso and lemon tarts to the strains of Mood Indigo.
January swirls above the street’s night life like a parasol holding this portrait in time.
3-4-23
Contest: Four Cafes
Sponsor: Julia Ward
200 Words
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