T.

Sitting in his usual spot at his favorite cafe, his wrist lazily stirring a tall cardboard cup of coffee and milk. He always took it to go, but stayed by the front window to drink it.

He’d think to himself how there were so many people out there, beyond the window, rushing around. He often wondered who they were, and what they were all in such a hurry to get to. Sometimes someone would stand out to him and his eyes would follow their body as it weaved its way through the crowd. He would imagine who they were and invent places they needed to be. Entire lives dreamed up in the blink of an eye, the unsuspecting subjects of which would disappear just as quickly into the flow of population.

He could never figure out what it was that made the one’s who stood out catch his eye. It would always happen unexpectedly and it felt totally random. Yet he wondered if there wasn’t some underlying pattern that he couldn’t uncover.

Just like every morning, as he’d swallow the last of his coffee it’s effect would deliver as promised and the morning’s hazy grip would melt away, releasing him to the day. Charming morning routines filled with questions that have no answers.

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