EXPRESS CAFÉ AND OTHER RAMBLINGS
“Curious Observation” copyright © 2010 by Heather Crouse. “Temptation” copyright © 2010 by Heather Crouse. “Blue Dreams” copyright © 2010 by Heather Crouse. “The Greatest Risk” copyright © 2010 by Heather Crouse. “Taking A Moment” copyright © 2010 by Heather Crouse. “Uncertain Survival” copyright © 2010 by Heather Crouse. “The World of Song” copyright © 2010 by Heather Crouse. “A New Coat” copyright © 2010 by Heather Crouse. “Waking Up” copyright © 2010 by Heather Crouse. “Breathing Room” copyright © 2010 by Heather Crouse.
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ISBN: 978-0-557-65923-4 Printed in United States of America Lulu Publishing/September 2010 10 9 8 7 6 5 4 3 2 1
Express CafĂŠ and Other Ramblings
By
Heather Crouse
Table of Contents
“Curious Observation”
4
“Temptation”
7
“Blue Dreams”
9
“The Greatest Risk”
33
“Taking A Moment”
59
“Uncertain Survival”
61
“The World of Song”
67
“A New Coat”
68
“Waking Up”
91
“Breathing Room”
109
Curious Observation I look around the Express Café and I see only red tablecloths, loathed by that of a bull, covering each dual seated table. It’s nearly like a pizza parlor, the size is so quaint. It’s like the owners don’t even expect many customers at this time of day. Every chair has a deep green pillow-like covering called a chair pad, a new-age invention since now people tend to complain of that sort of thing. An almost silver glint of light catches my eye and I glance up to see blades of gray spinning in a round, fast motion from a dual-mounted base. The motion brings nausea to my current state and I inhale the aroma of stale coffee and pastries to settle my stomach. A man and woman are chatting indignantly at a corner table. The woman, a sleek red-headed lady with full waves of hair and flawless skin leans forward in her chair and then I notice his large hand is on her bare knee. Get a room, I think as the bell rings signaling a customer’s sudden entrance into the café. The name, Express Café, makes me wonder if they are
known for speed of delivery. Suddenly, a tall broad-shouldered man plows down the middle aisle in a cowboy getup, his snakeskin boots clanking on the tiling of the floor. He heads straight for the two lovers in the back and pauses near the lady’s elbow. Uh oh, I think, eyeing them. It’s probably a lover’s triangle. I feel foolish for staring as he yanks the woman out of her chair and breathes hotly in her face. I am sickened by this sudden show of violence. It’s almost as if he sees her as a possession. Let her go, I plead with him silently.