At The Café
Every Wednesday afternoon you can find me here. Sitting against the back wall, watching the world drift in and out, picking out the locals from the tourists, listening to the banter between the waiters as they rush around taking orders and flirting with the attractive women and men, making up stories about the people sitting together. It's warm outside. Why is that poor kid wrapped up in a jacket and scarf? Everyone at that table has got to be Italian. Except for the guy wearing baggy jeans. He's been talking on his phone and ignoring his dining companion since the moment they arrived. No wonder she looks so bored! Those two are definitely American. And they must not realize that some of us can understand every word they're saying. What an adorable dog! The couple in the corner who can't take their hands off each other either just met last night or are having a red-hot love affair. I also stop here because they make a mean café serré. Which isn't an easy th...