CAFE FRIEDRICH, HEIDELBERG (GER)

 I cross the avenue and look in. I see a mahogany bar and small, round tabletops. There is no one in sight.  I try the door; it opens. I enter, and take a seat.  From my table I can see the park opposite, with its careful beds of colour, its gravelled paths and ornamental fountains.  As I wait, I watch light enter through the deco windows that overlook the colonnade. I watch greens and reds and blues from the stained glass play across the black and white tiling on the floor. They meddle with its orderly geometry.  I glance up and see a woman standing behind the bar. I have not been aware of her. She wears a pressed white shirt, a long black apron tied tight about her waist.   Cafecito, por favor.   When she serves me I notice her hands.        https://www.theguardian.com/books/2016/oct/04/disappearances-by-kj-orr-read-the-2016-winner-of-the-bbc-national-short-story-award

I cross the avenue and look in. I see a mahogany bar and small, round tabletops. There is no one in sight.

I try the door; it opens. I enter, and take a seat.

From my table I can see the park opposite, with its careful beds of colour, its gravelled paths and ornamental fountains.

As I wait, I watch light enter through the deco windows that overlook the colonnade. I watch greens and reds and blues from the stained glass play across the black and white tiling on the floor. They meddle with its orderly geometry.

I glance up and see a woman standing behind the bar. I have not been aware of her. She wears a pressed white shirt, a long black apron tied tight about her waist.

Cafecito, por favor.

When she serves me I notice her hands.

 

 

https://www.theguardian.com/books/2016/oct/04/disappearances-by-kj-orr-read-the-2016-winner-of-the-bbc-national-short-story-award

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