Descriptive writing of a cafe scene.
|The welcome scent of coffee wafts through the air, calling to my weary legs to come take a rest. A metallic table reflects the sun, almost blinding me for a second. As I take a seat, i am surrounded by mountains of plastic and paper bags which hold the contents of guilt ridden peoples’ shopping. They, like me are taking a break from spending money they don’t have. The sun has heated the chair and it feels comforting and warm. I look around for a waitress; the need for caffeine is now consuming my mind.
She teeters over in a mini skirt and a top that leaves nothing to the imagination. Her heels are so impractical for someone who will be on their feet all day, but she knows they make her legs look amazing. I take solace in the fact that her feet will be aching later, as mine are now. Her face is fixed into a false smile. She has too much make up on and I doubt she can even remember the natural colour of her hair. She pulls a pencil from behind her ear and goes through the routine questions she asks every customer that visits the café. She chews her gum noisily between each word. I place my order and sigh deeply.
Birds swoop in from every direction, hoping for a stray crumb to feast on. The pavements are covered with squabbling, pecking pigeons. They fight over the smallest speck of what may, or may not even be food. Children run at them, squealing with pleasure as they scramble off into the air, leaving their treasure behind.
The noise from the traffic invades my thoughts. Lorries making deliveries, clattering and banging as the drivers empty their cargo without a care. The heavy smell of exhaust fumes fills my nostrils and I long to inhale the sweet aroma of my coffee. The street seems to be getting busier. More people, carrying more bags, spending more money. Arguing with their partners loudly as the stress gets to the most patient of people. The café in comparison seems calm. We patiently sit and wait for our orders, courteously nodding at each other, if we happen to catch someone’s eye. Empty tables are strewn with cups and packaging. Coffee or tea spilt on the gleaming metallic surface cheapens the look of the café. My coffee arrives and everything else disappears. Just me, my thoughts and my beautiful Soya latte.