My hands were clasped around the warm cast-iron tea pot to keep them toasty. Earlier, I had to politely ask the barrista for an extra tea cup because he mistakenly assumed I was alone. I've been waiting for mijo, for what seemed like forever, inside the Sweet Inspiration cafe.
I was seating by the window close to the door so he could see me right away when he arrives. It is not at all this easy to get a table by the window. Not in this neighborhood, not in this cafe, not on a friday afternoon. One of the effects of recession, I thought.
I could see all the people passing by outside were all bundled-up. I remembered it haled earlier and it is snowing on higher elevations today. Suddenly, someone stood infront of the cafe, blocking my view of the outside. I noticed the cards on his hands and then he started scribbling something. He flashed them against the glass window and I obliged to read them.
Did you eat my lunch?
Was it tasty?
Rat race, choices, number.
I am tired of my job.
Effects of recession, I thought. Desperate for a Valentine's date, perhaps?
~ral
(Above is a photo of a French bistro on Diamond St. in San Francisco, CA)