There’s a new approach to hospitality at cafe’s these days. That you’ve arrived, only to sit on their sofas and chairs, since your home only a box of cement and tiles. If you want to order a beverage or anything consumable, you will have to break all protocol and meddle with the hospitality staff's purpose, which is to loiter. Like an anti-meisner excercise, they walk like a goose ganders in a garden after a bellyful of gluten. Purposeless, content. Dont bother them with your expectations.
That’s when their arch rival climbs up the cafe’s steps. A stoic (aspiring, as all stoics are) arrives at a cafe. He has no needs outside of himself... which means he wont order till someone approaches him.
And none do. All status quo.
He sits stealing glances, as do the staff. Neither budges. Stale mate.
Fellow customers around him wave, direct attention, like landing airplanes but he, sits cross legged, self contained. Amongst windmills of flying arms, he exists, thirsty, hungry, unmoved.
Tissues are swooped up, tables are sweeped clean. People come and go. But nothing on his table.
Till finally someone approaches. The stoic smiles inwardly. They've cracked!
He's determined not too even look up till they are at his table, blocking his light. They want HIS order. Ah. The patience. Ah, it’s fruits. He composes himself, looks up in annoyance topped with mild disinterest.
“Would you like to place an order sir?”
His moment's finally here! He mouths.. "yes." but isnt heard. His throats caked and dry. The other human comes closer, stoops even. With gargantuan effort, he croaks “Onehotsingleshotwafflewithicecreamochahotchocolate!”
The stoic can hear the hospitality staff telepathically high five each other. Damn you. Low blood sugar wins again.
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