Coffee house

There’s a man standing in the window, watching the world. Sometimes he drinks coffee, espresso in the morning and cappuccino at night. He never drinks tea. He watches the people in the coffee house across the street. Some of them do drink tea, but most of them drink coffee. The tea-drinkers seem ill at ease.

The man always stands in the same spot. He sees the regulars who always choose the same chairs by the windows of the coffee house and knows their coffee orders. Except for the one girl who drinks tea, he can never remember her preferred flavor. Like other tea-drinkers she looks like she doesn’t belong, even though she comes in almost every day. The man thinks most of the regulars are artist of some sort. They look very bohemian. He feels he would look dowdy next to them. Bland.

One time the tea-girl spotted him. She waved at him but he did not wave back. She watched him drinking his coffee and he kept looking at all the regulars save her. She stayed for almost the entire time the coffee house was open that day, looking even more out of place than usual. He did not acknowledge her. She did not come again after that. The other regulars once seemed to ask the barrista about the tea-girl, but the man could not hear what was said. Her chair was soon taken by a new regular, one who did drink coffee and was perfectly at ease. The man standing in the window looked at his cup and suddenly wondered if he should start drinking tea.