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Four Cafes
The four cafes that bordered the water sat eerily still this January night. I had often sat alone, looking down from my apartment window high above the narrow Canal de la Sensee, watching as their jovial patrons downed their absinthe and drowned each other in raucous conversation. So often the cafes seemed to blend together, but on occasion any one of them could become a little more rowdy, though tactfully competitive, making the view a little more interesting.
I watched as their personalities were expressed through their music, each displaying their own version of laughter and unique aromas defining their menus, and all so heavenly. I watched with envy as couples danced and caroused on the festooned decks that laced the canal’s edge and savored their rhythms, rippling in the water's reflection.
But on this evening, I watched as the four cafes sat in silence. A foggy haze had settled just above the waterline, slowly drifting in time to its flow, deepening the stillness. I was filled with a sense of sadness. Each empty cafe appeared to be waiting for someone... a friend maybe, or possibly a lover? But no one came. It was an emptiness that I knew well.
word count 200
3-3-23
Copyright ©
Mark Massey
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