Cafe in Paris

Friday October 19, 2018

It’s raining. Light rain drizzles onto the pavement in front of the cafe. People huddle under their umbrellas. Cars move slower than usual. The cafe is nearly empty, all but for one guest -me.

The sidewalk is slick and glazed over with a thin layer of reflective water covering the concrete. The trees seem to be enjoying the moisture, their leaves a verdant green, their trunks black. The lights above me are still on from the night before. Their warm, yellow hue reflects off the water from the sidewalk.

It’s 7:35 am in Paris.

Workers are moving about. I decide to sit and enjoy a croissant for my morning breakfast. I sit alone at my table. The table is two foot across with a red, circular top. The cafe menu rests on top of the table. The chair I’m sitting on is a wicker chair. Comfy. I wonder how many Americans have sat in this very chair over the years. What if I’m the only one? I better make this count.

I open the morning newspaper at my table and read over yesterday’s news. I feel the newsprint as I glide my fingers over the paper. I skip the front page and head on over to the culture section. There’s a television series coming up about Picasso. I make a mental note to find that on the tv later.

8:30 am. A few more people now at the cafe. They are busy with themselves, preoccupied in their own world. It’s fun to watch others pass by on the sidewalk. I wonder where they are going. I wish I could be a fly and buzz about these Parisians and see how they live and interact with their world.

There’s a quiet hum now at the cafe. More people are arriving.

The day is getting going now. I think I’ll take a long walk along the Champs Elysee.

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