Coffee at Noon

There he sits. A gem, a jewel waiting to be found. His colour and vibrant glow shatters the room. Each reflected break of amber hue spreads the image of the expanse into a thousand pieces. The space is a shattered mirror wherever he goes; each point of every broken shard fixed on him.

His gaze breaks away from the empty seat in front of him. It says something about a movie later, but the luminescent young man’s eyes have drifted to a pane of glass that is full of colour and movement.

On the bright side of the crystal sheet there is a man handing a toasty bun to a small child over a counter, and a woman feeding her flabby baby some ice cream. There are men and women in black and navy business suits headed off to important meetings about politics or whatever. Trees furrow their branches on the breeze, and grass whistles with the wind playing a sweet melody of a thousand tiny orchestras. Beyond that is a cascade of edges and corners; buildings that house people eating, drinking, and sleeping in bed with their lovers. Each one with a story to tell and a life meant to live.

Back at the cafe is a young man, sitting across from a heavy chair with a name and an attitude. The boy tries to concentrate on the space with it’s jagged, splintered, teeth and squishy, wrinkled button nose but, instead, fixes his gaze back on the void and is lost again. Wandering in thought.