Misfit

She felt that there was very little space to move. Smell of coffee intertwined with cake’s and made the rounds at tables. The table between him and her, carrying two drying marks of tea cups, seemed to grow around and engulf her in a deathly grip.

“…but then I said no to that. My current agency pays me this amount to polish my shoes, ha ha ha…”

Her thoughts flew above their heads, vaguely touched the ceiling and floated out of the window into the late evening sky of yesterday. She had taken a walk in the park yesterday and settled down into an occasional mosquito-hitting blissful existence on a dirty park bench. Tiny droplets of water that the sprinkler spat out cooled the bottom of her feet in spots.

She suddenly longed for the cooling in parts.

coffee

 

 

 

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