"A Thousand Tomorrows and One Coffee "
We Let the Coffee Go Cold By the time our coffee went cold, I had stopped noticing the time. We had chosen a table beside the window, where the evening light fell gently across the wood. Outside, people moved past with shopping bags, ringing phones, and places to be. Inside, there was music playing softly enough to leave room for conversation, the smell of freshly ground coffee, and a girl sitting across from me who was making it surprisingly easy to forget the rest of my day. She was looking through the menu with an expression of great seriousness. “Why do they give us so many choices?” she asked. Then she looked up and smiled, and I knew I was going to enjoy myself. The café had the kind of warmth that encouraged people to stay. Amber lamps hung above the tables. Books stood on a shelf beside a plant that had grown slightly out of control. Somewhere behind the counter, cups touched saucers, milk hissed beneath a steam wand, and somebody laughed. Our table was small enough tha...
