The Coffee Shop
The Coffee Shop
All characters are fictional.
Entering the coffee shop by the swing door the man looked around. Seating himself at a small, circular, dark oak table in a secluded alcove he waited. At a table next to him sat an elderly man dressed in smart, casual clothes. He had been there for some time, the remains of a baguette on the table along with a part drunk cup of coffee and a small black notebook in which he had been writing. The coffee shop was nearly full, only a few of the small circular tables were empty, the bright late Summer sun casting sharp shadows inside the crowded room.
Opposite the elderly man, a young woman sat by a window through which the sun lit that corner of the room and highlighted her fair hair against the dark oak of the bar. She typed rapidly confidently clicking the keys of her laptop, occasionally peering closely at the screen, apparently unaware of the conversations around her. Aftr a while she stopped typing, picking up her phone. She spoke softly, her posture relaxed, clearly in agreement with another, unknown person, unconsciously stroking her hair back over her ear as she spoke. A number of the patrons held mobile phones, the cadence of people in conversation broken by the intruding voices of single speakers.
One of these lone speakers sat by the large window in the opposite corner to the fair haired lady. A self concious young man dressed in a white shirt and casual suit, fidgeting nervously as he spoke into his phone, frequently glancing out onto the pedestrian concourse.
Sitting at a long table in the centre of the room was a woman with two children, one boy about six, the other about eight, the two boys colouring pictures in a book with pencils supplied by the coffee shop while their mother spoke to an older woman sitting close to her. The conversation was carried out in hushed tones, the older woman looking anxious as the younger spoke rapidly, stopping suddenly as she became aware that one of the boys was no longer colouring in the pictures but was listening intently.
A man with a Husky dog and a walking stick, who frequently used the coffee shop sat by the door, watching the room with obvious interest.
Another man entered and seeing the figure in the alcove went over to him. The other stood, they shook hands and immediately engaged in conversation. Their expressions indicating some urgency, their voices hushed. A few minutes later the elderly man who had been sitting at the adjacent table pocketed his notebook, stood up and left.
From behind the bar a slender dark haired waitress appeared, sliding sideways through the narrow bar opening. Quickly clearing the tables she approached the two men with a smile rehearsed with a thousand customers. The conversation between the two men ceased as she took their order, clearly an intruder in their protected space.
In the dimly lit alcove the dark haired intruder returned, serving the two men coffee then clearing the remains of debris, including a small scrap of paper on the neighbouring table vacated by the elderly man. She approached the table where the Husky sat patiently on the floor beneath, the scrap of paper slipping off the waitress’ tray. The waitress cleared the table then returned to her position behind the bar. As she left the Husky owner bent down to pick up the paper, his stick clattering to the floor.
The two children were now bored with the colouring pencils whilst the conversation between the older and younger woman had become more intense. The younger woman, looking annoyed spoke to the children, one of them now under the table collecting pencils.
The two men in the dark alcove finished their conversation. Standing up they left, watched by the man with the Husky who, by now, had retrieved his walking stick and the scrap of paper he had found. His actions observed in the dim light under the table by the boy collecting pencils, who noted that the man picked up both his stick and the scrap of paper with his left hand; something he would come to remember later.
At the same time the fair haired lady put down her phone, a young man on the far side of the roomclosed his, smiled and left; the woman went back to her typing.
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