Coffee Spills

What I hear and see and think about at the coffee shops I patronize.
Brisk. Fresh. Well-balanced. Occasional nutty and bittersweet overtones.
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Friday, May 19, 2006

Breakfast with the kids

One of the coffee shops I go to occasionally is close to the high school, a middle school and two elementary schools, so it is not unusual to find me next to parents and kids (the tables are close). A very tall attractive, middle-aged dad and his beautiful tall teen daughter whose short shirt didn't meet her low rider jeans sat down next to me.

He immediately began to describe what was happening to his father (her grandfather, I assumed) and although the room was noisy, it sounded like cancer.

"Don't talk to me about it when I'm eating," she snapped.

Silence. And bagel munching.

He started again, this time describing the room his dad was in, obviously wanting very much to talk about his father.

Then his voice cracked and he seemed to be trying to give her some advice, suggesting and starting over several times, but he was stuffing so much in his mouth it was very muffled. I think it was on how to take a test. He told her to keep going even if it was hard, repeating again that he'd always given up.

Yes, I thought he'd given up too easy on the other topic.


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