Three long-time souls sit on wicker chairs, round a metal table, under blue parasols.
It’s Saturday morning. Discussing the weather; they agree it’s sunny but cold. Discussing their drinks; they agree they’re too full, as usual, no room for milk.
Sipping, they slurp over hesitations when retelling their stories; the ones they still remember.
Clothed in their grey and beige they wait. The ultimate will happen. But now they enjoy the moment, watching a young world blur round them.
Finishing their drinks, they discuss the shopping they need; same as last week, same as next week and on, and on.