About a dozen women just walked into the coffee shop. All are fairly pretty. The problem is, most of them are acting like they know it, and we're supposed to worship them because of it.

The totally empty and bland conversation of the two seated next to me made me sick. Nothing in particular, but just the dead emptiness of it all. No emotion. No meaning.

"Blah blah blah," hair fluff hair fluff, "Blah blah blah blah blah." Then, bat eyelashes at the owner, chuckle at his jokes, and then turn their noses up at everyone else in the place, returning to the same empty conversation.

I turned my music up to try to ignore them, but it was just as bad to watch, even out of the corner of my eye.

So, I turned my attention to another woman and her friend, who were sitting a couple tables away. Lesbians, maybe, but down to earth for certain. One wearing a Carhardt jacket and bib overalls, with thick furry gloves. My kind of girls. They were beautiful without even trying. The kind of girls I would walk up to in a bar (while drunk, of course) and tell them how beautiful they really were. As I was lost in thought, they disappeared.

Only three remain, engaged in deep conversation (about politics! and war!) and I'm trying to determine their age and occupations. I can't. Grad students? Certainly not housewives. Who else has time in the middle of the day to go to a coffee shop in a residential neighborhood?
posted by Matt Latham at 11:15 AM

He sits at the back of the smoking section, staring into space, his hat upside down on the table. The hostess offers him more coffee, which he accepts, as he gets lost in his own thoughts again. "What am I doing? How did I get this far? Will I ever get out of this town?" Glancing around, he sees someone he thinks he knows, from college, sort of.

"Eh. Probably not him.Won't recognize me. Even if he does, do I want him to? No - I shouldn't. He said I was a bad kisser, and worse. But, then again, he was, overall, a nice guy." He took a long swig of coffee, and glanced across the dining room again, this time meeting eyes with the man from college. "Oh God, it is him. Dammit. And he recognized me, I think. Please, please don't say anything."

The other man was too busy eating to think of much else. He appeared hurried, maybe late for work. "Is he looking at me? No. Good. Maybe I can leave without him noticing. Just gotta finish this biscuit and I can run to the cashier."

The man with the hat left his money under the check on the table, stood confidently, adjusted his belt and centered his hat atop his head. He turned quickly and said a quiet goodbye to the hostess, flashing her a wide smile as he turned, escaping the glances of the other man.

"I can eat in peace," the other man thought. "But maybe I'll call him when I get home. Men in uniform always deserve a call."
posted by Matt Latham at 9:51 AM