A lineup of weekend hipsters waited to order their takeaway Acai bowls with chia and hemp seeds, and their cold filtered single origin coffee.
The music from the digital speakers swung safely between RnB and Jazz. It was loud enough to hear, over the 20 somethings catching up over some seriously good coffee.
Built into the cafe was a small bookshop, some new, some vintage. The books were a stylish backdrop, to the environmentally conscious fashion labels and the carefully trimmed and oiled beards.
The two of them were at a loss, as to how they could best move, on from this awkward moment.
He was always trying to get the last word in, that was his thing. Maybe she'd broken down, because of her abhorrence to arguing. She preferred to stew on it for a while and then strategize her revenge.
"Look I'm sorry." the words struggled from his lips. He knew that it was the right thing to say, but he rarely, actually meant it. His only motive was to try and backpedal to a safer place.
There relationship used to be much lighter, and free from all this chess maneuvering. He'd never been much chop, at board games.
She ignored him and continued to fidget with the mushed up napkin. A plate of barely touched, perfectly poached free range eggs, on organic greens, sat before her.
His plate was empty, but for a few sourdough crumbs, a smear of bacon fat and some hot sauce.
He stared awkwardly, as if on a crowded train.
Through the bifold doors, out on the timber deck, was a big table of 40 something, professionals. With prams as big as 4WD's, they were screaming over each other to be heard.
In this vast sea of urban life, not one single soul noticed their discomfort.
They clearly weren't suited for each other, but they'd fallen in love with each other's 'stuff'.
She loved his stylishly messed up hair, his arctic blue eyes and his body.
He loved her plainness, that was hidden so carefully behind all the makeup and designer chic.
They wanted it to work, it seemed. How else could you explain their perseverance.
She got up and paid the bill and then joined the cue for the bathroom.
He flicked through his Instagram feed and checked his emails. There were a few late bill reminders and an email from his supervisor, reminding him to finish the Edwards report and email it to her before Monday morning.
God he wished for a simpler life, the one from his past, had slipped through his fingers all too quickly.
She appeared from the bathroom and smiled his way. Perhaps today wasn't going to be a complete write off after all, he thought to himself.
He necked the last of his latte and glanced distractedly at that smear of bacony, hot sauce on the plate in front of him and got up to join the girl who cried at the drop of a hat.
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