He was shy.
I saw him for the first time sitting, alone, at a coffee shop. People walking by did not distract his concentration on the television, it remained as constant as the morning sun glaring on a skyscraper. The coffee occupying his right hand steamed strongly as he diligently removed the lid and waited for the coffee to cool. The aroma of an amaretto americano filled the morning breeze with a sweet tang. He moved his fingers round and round, looking as if he was thinking, thinking of something to occupy the time. All the while he could be socializing. Was he scared to start a conversation? Scared to ask for a newspaper or a journal? "Hello, my name is Lo, what is your name?"
No comments:
Post a Comment