Coffee Crema

A man marches in with an armful of cook books, color-tagged with post it notes. A dinner party? A talk with a publisher? A food photographer? On my left, a bespectacled redhead urgently working on a paper full of footnotes. If it had been going well, he wouldn't be here now. Across from me another fellow, greying, a huge development report printed out. 200 pages he goes through in the space of a coffee. And then there is me. Needing my breakfast and tea, chewing over a Sunday Times abandoned by a crimson-tied patron, noting those around me.