Café Comings and Goings

The coffee tasted strong as I sat on the patio, waiting. She was late. I watched as a man in a brown sweater walked into the courtyard where I was sitting. He looked confused, as though he had never been here before. He located the line, entered, and waited his turn to order breakfast. I took a bite of a blueberry scone and noticed its crumbly texture. The outer layer was burned. I washed it down with a sip of coffee.

I thought I saw her as I looked up from my newspaper toward the entrance to the patio. I noticed that it smelled like wet plants. Probably the dew evaporating as the sun got brighter with the morning’s passing. It wasn’t her.

Through the patio and out across the street I could see a blue car parking in front of the flower shop. I remembered that she drove a blue car. There were a lot of customers at the flower shop at that time of the morning, I thought. Looking back toward the car the door began to open. It was her.