The spectacle

The tall teenage lad traipsed into the coffee shop behind his mother. His head swayed from side to side and he wore an inhuman grin. The mother joined the queue and the son hovered nearby, never at rest. He was over six feet tall, significantly taller than his mother. She looked ahead at the counter over the queue of shoulders. She ignored the noise being made by her son.

That noise.

Heads turned as soon as the mother and son entered the coffee shop, wanting to catch a glimpse of the spectacle, the source of the guttural moaning, the aquatic warbling.

After being served, the mother walked over to a table and deposited her tray. Her son followed closely behind. He struggled out of the straps of his brightly coloured backpack and narrowly missed upsetting his mother’s coffee. She remained devoid of any reaction. She helped her son with his things and settled him in beside her. She retrieved her laptop from her bag and laid it on the table.

She never looked at his face.

Intermittent warbling.

She was used to it.

A man sitting opposite me was growing noticeably agitated. ’Why are you ruining my coffee break?’ said his facial expression. He began to mutter under his breath and I felt ashamed to be breathing the same oxygen as him.