He sat there looking out the window and sipping coffee. He drank the same, each day. Black coffee with cold milk. It was the drink of someone who knew how to disappear. To melt into wallpaper or the carpet underfoot. He was sat in a corner, between the window and the wall. I liked that seat too. You could survey the whole room without anyone noticing you were surveying the whole room. You could hear what coffee people ordered. You could observe, unobtrusively. Which he normally did, or so I believed. But today he was looking out the window instead.
We had never spoken much beyond the interaction that was required when ordering coffee. And yet I liked him. Perhaps even, that was why I liked him. I'm a shy person but I am also a quiet person. Those are two different things. Shyness warms up, in places and with people that are familiar. Quiet people, tend to be quiet by disposition.
Sometimes, when he opened his wallet to reach for his debit card, I would see a passport photo of a child, perhaps four years old. I never saw him with a child, or with anyone for that matter, which struck me as odd, but was another thing that endeared me to him. He didn't say much, but when he did speak, he was softly spoken, with a low, steady voice. One time, a colleague of mine brought him a cappuccino by mistake. He didn't say anything. Just drank it, albeit more slowly than usual. That was the day I realised I like him. That was when I realised he was shy too.
Fluttering folds, birds all from a man having a sip of coffee. Amazing stuff. This piece takes 1/3 in and goes from strength to strength with the imagery and symbolism.
He sat there looking out the window and sipping coffee. He drank the same, each day. Black coffee with cold milk. It was the drink of someone who knew how to disappear. To melt into wallpaper or the carpet underfoot. He was sat in a corner, between the window and the wall. I liked that seat too. You could survey the whole room without anyone noticing you were surveying the whole room. You could hear what coffee people ordered. You could observe, unobtrusively. Which he normally did, or so I believed. But today he was looking out the window instead.
We had never spoken much beyond the interaction that was required when ordering coffee. And yet I liked him. Perhaps even, that was why I liked him. I'm a shy person but I am also a quiet person. Those are two different things. Shyness warms up, in places and with people that are familiar. Quiet people, tend to be quiet by disposition.
Sometimes, when he opened his wallet to reach for his debit card, I would see a passport photo of a child, perhaps four years old. I never saw him with a child, or with anyone for that matter, which struck me as odd, but was another thing that endeared me to him. He didn't say much, but when he did speak, he was softly spoken, with a low, steady voice. One time, a colleague of mine brought him a cappuccino by mistake. He didn't say anything. Just drank it, albeit more slowly than usual. That was the day I realised I like him. That was when I realised he was shy too.
The Flutter
It caught his eye
A fluttering sound
A swerve of white
While sitting
sipping coffee
He watched
A white bird of plastic
Surreal to the eye
Caught by the wind
On the pavement out side
Carry itself
Higher and higher
While sipping coffee
He noticed
Such a strange species
A seagull perhaps
Not made of origami
But a shoppers bag
Released
Into the wild
The fluttering folds
continued
In search of a branch
Or a roof top
Of slate
To rest
And search
Even
Then
He thought
Strange bird
Strange world
Where have all
The real birds gone
Another sip
He twists his wrist
looks at his watch
The time for him too
To slowly move on
Wearing
crisp
Soft white linen
On this hot
summers day
Wednesday June 26
prompt:
He sat there looking out the window and sipping coffee…
For writers pilgrim workshop by Lucinda Sieger time 08.09am
Fluttering folds, birds all from a man having a sip of coffee. Amazing stuff. This piece takes 1/3 in and goes from strength to strength with the imagery and symbolism.