A row of empty tables, but which one to choose? Despite being made identical in the factory, something inside me is waiting to see one that possesses an inner magnetism that will call out to me like a potential lover. Like a glimmer in that stranger’s eye, an invitation will be sent out to create a beautiful story. But not something as mundane as a love story. “Woman drinks coffee” it will be called, an epic tale of the passage of time and life’s non-adventures.
This one? No, keep walking. Maybe…no. I’m starting to feel a bit stupid now, just pick one. Sure enough there it is. An aura of perfection emanates from this particular cluster of shabby chic and as my squidgy buttocks gradually warm the distressed metal I feel the situation has accepted me. With my escaping body heat I have claimed this spot and potentially disturbed the next adventurer with an unexpected intimacy.