There’s no one else at the coffee shop, aside from the two people chatting behind the counter.
I’m by the window and there’s a man outside waiting for the bus. Both of us are waiting for something to happen. He needs to get home, or run errands. I’m waiting for inspiration to catch a bus and pay me a visit. According to the arrival times on the sign outside inspiration is running late.
Beside me is my third empty cup. I’m tempted to order another medium black, but they’re just going to give me what’s left of the pot that’s been on the burner for the last hour. Fresh is best.