Never Alone In A Cafe

Vince Bunnyman sits alone in the café.
She’s late again. She just doesn’t know it.
The noise from the Waitress’s iPod is soothing.
The noise from the other customers even more so.
She arrives with book in hand.
He is already up to the world news section.
Just like the line in the song that he can’t remember, the Barrister forgets to make his coffee.
She turns to the dog-eared marked page of her book and continues the journey.
He looks to his phone for the time and moves onto the Sunday supplement.
No news, nothing different from last time.
She looks up, but not long enough for their eyes to meet.
Typical.
The coffee arrives.
Skinny. Flat. White.
Two of the three words relate, but not like they used to.
He watches her whilst he drinks.
Something they both did in previous cafés.
In previous lives.
The coffee goes faster than usual and thrill is gone.
The only saving grace is a complimentary Muffin and the determination that next time will be different.
Next time he’ll make the effort to say hello to her.