A man sits at one of the nearby small round tables and waits patiently, hands in his lap, for the waiter to serve him lunch. His dog sits quietly next to him, a soft tan curly-haired dog that looks a little like a cocker spaniel. After a minute the dog lies all the way down and rests his head on his right paw. The man's table has become crowded with a placemat (holding a napkin, knife and fork), a small pitcher of rosé (with accompanying wine glass), an ashtray, and a mustard, salt and pepper rack. Where the expected plate of food will go is anybody's guess.
It's a little cold here next to the windows. Outside, the rain has let up a bit, but the sky still looks rather miserable. A woman slinks tentatively down the sidewalk under her umbrella. Walking next to her is a woman with a closed umbrella and the attitude that whatever rain may be coming down at the moment is not worth worrying about.
They served me a couple of sugar cube packets with my espresso. An echoic Whitney Houston song haunts the place at the moment -- earlier it was George Michael. Behind me, the tall dark green fence of a radiator does its best to warm me up as Whitney sings "If I run to you / will you stay / or will you run away?"
Metro: Place des Fêtes
Sugar: two packets of sugar cubes
Copyright © 2002 David Sadegh.
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