Snowbirds

[Ron. Lavalette]

It seems like half the town comes in for coffee between noon and two, most of them hooded and mittened against the cold, some of them—despite their best efforts—appearing nearly frostbitten, their movement toward the café tables slow, their utterances clipped, their eyes still frozen into a sub-zero squint.

He observes them from his corner table, dispassionately but with such attention to detail that, in attending so closely to it, he almost ceases to exist. Several times, he forgets to breathe. It seems to him that his watch has stopped.

An unexpected snow squall breaks out over by the periodicals rack and small drifts begin to build up around the cookbooks and how-to manuals.

Finding the weather so suddenly the same inside as out, the snowbirds migrate toward more open air, leaving him alone at last, his coffee only half finished and twenty minutes of his lunch hour left.

[Angela]

The rhythms of a town, a cafe, humans...it is all so beautiful, even the sodden parts, in their own strange way.  It nourishes, doesn't it?  "It seemed to him that his watch has stopped," was perfect.  I lose myself, too.

[Teresa]

I would love to live this way every moment.  I'd get little done, probably stink after a couple of days without a shower, but...  Great observation piece. 

[Gita]

I have a name for this: dispassionately but with such attention to detail that, in attending so closely to it, he almost ceases to exist.  I call it "anthropologist-on-location" mode.

I recognize it because I've been doing it myself for decades.  It is easier to do if you're a regular rather than a newcomer. People don't question the scrutiny so much; they think you're nearsighted.

I love your coffee shop pieces, by the way. Will we ever meet the townsfolk by name?

 

[Kristine_ES]

sub-zero squint!  yeah!

i have a question. if one of them notices you noticing, and comes over and says 'what are you looking at?' what would you say?  

[Sandra Davies]

Stillness of intense contemplation here.   I'm sure I don't get all of it but enough to enjoy, and admire.

[Joey Delgado]

'...their utterances clipped, their eyes still frozen into a subzero squint.'

This is a nice portrait piece, and I felt cold reading it, that is until the narrator was left alone with his coffee and the rest of his lunch break. Then warmth crept back in. Well done, Ron.