Still Life

There's an empty table next to me. It gives me the same kind of orgasmic feeling that I get when I see a blank piece of paper.

Who is going to come and sit here? What is their part in my life? What myth and legends; what stories? A girl, guy or a couple? A bunch of hyperactive college students? What are they going to order? Cappuccino or Latte? Cigarette or peppermint? What destiny brought them here, next to me, to share their stories with this literate voyeur?

The table speaks to me of a thousand stories. It is like an autorickshaw driver - with numerous anecdotes and an opinion for everything. It tells me of the time when sagging boobs rested on its top; of the time when it coughed smoke the color of ideas; of the time when it belched gorging on obscene kisses.

"What are you writing?" asked a pair of dark eyes from the corner. I conspicously pushed the piece of paper to her vicinity, willing her to read the fine print. A blink and she was lost in the mocha fumes. A haunting set of eyes. Too bad.

"Anything else?" asks the man with his hands. He is deaf and dumb - like the table next to me. I find myself handicapped. How do you say to this guy - "The coffee was terrible but I had lifetimes talking to me. Thank you."? I smile and so does he - going off to the kitchen to get me more of the ersatz.

A beggar nudges me from behind, sporting her drugged child and a collecting tin. I ignore her and continue writing about the beauty of humanity. Handicap.

The light dims as the golden orb above me turns impotent. "Nice day," says the table. "Not bad," I reply, propping my legs up. She turns silent, her cold grey eyes reproaching me for the affrontery. What can I say? I am not much of a conversationalist.

Pit. Pit. Pit pat pat pat patter patter patter - like diamond tears, the clouds relieve themselves. My lusty eyes feast on the white T-shirts.

"Can I borrow a light, mate?" asks the guy, hastening to smoke in the light of the rain.

How do you borrow light? It is free!

GIVE ME MY LIGHT BACK, YOU THIEVING BASTARD!

The table fills up and I leave. All this socializing is getting to me...