Spectator

                Giving the drink a tentative sip, she smacks her lips once, twice, licks them, then twists her mouth in thought. She gives an appreciative hum and nods her head, impressed. Probably her first time drinking that particular flavor of drink. Or maybe her first experience with the café? Who knows?

She exits the café and passes by two young boys in uniform, hunching over papers and books strewn all over the small round table behind the door. As they scribble, they take turns scratching their heads in confusion, asking the other questions every now and then. Are they trying to finish their homework? Or is the examination period around the corner? Once you no longer don a school uniform you hardly keep track anymore.

Behind them a lady in a baby pink dress under a black cardigan sits reading a book, probably fiction. Crime fiction, from the looks of the cover. She doesn't look like she fancies self-help books much. But again, do not judge a book by its cover – pun intended. The bell rings as the door opens. She looks up, distracted, and a sweet smile graces her lips as she sees the man in a black suit heading towards her. He's picking her up for their date, perhaps? Marking the page she's at, she keeps the book, stands and gestures to the man for a hug. The hug seems like a friendly one and his ring finger is occupied, while hers is not. So maybe, friends who haven't met up in a while.

As they both take their seats, the man at the next table furrows his brows looking at his phone. Trouble at work? He's wearing a black polo tee and jeans with sneakers and he too has papers strewn all over his table. Not every workplace requires the employees to wear suits anyway. He puts his phone aside and inhales deeply before picking it up again and typing something on it while slowly exhaling. When it suddenly rings, he answers it and ends the call after saying a few short sentences before packing up. He dials a number as he leaves, steps hurried and a frown adorning his handsome face. Probably the same number that called him just seconds prior.

Beside his now vacant table sits a couple. Okay, maybe not exactly a couple. She's wearing a navy blue sleeveless dress with black flats and he's wearing a black T-shirt and dress pants with dress shoes. After work? Or just ended a performance? She has a few pieces of papers at her side of the table, and a pen in hand. She circles here, underlines there, points at one of the circled area before moving to another, once in a while looking up, possibly to gauge his reaction. From experience, definitely trying to sell something. There seems to be no products on the table so maybe insurance? Or financial planning, whatever they call it nowadays.

The bell rings again, and two new customers enter. Two young ladies, possibly mid-twenties. One in a ponytail in a pink long-sleeved tee, dark blue jeans and black sneakers and the other with orange wavy hair down to the waist, white long-sleeved tee tucked into a purple ankle-length flare skirt ending with light purple flats. They're conversing excitedly, possibly about the movie they just watched, judging from the half-empty tub of popcorn in the former's hands. As they head to the counter for their order, a phone rings nearby.

A quick look at the time tells him the house will be empty by the time he reaches home. He switches off his phone alarm, packs his things and leaves, eyes sweeping once more around the crowded café, concluding his people-watching for the day. Tomorrow, as with today and any other day, at the same time, he will be in the café, at the same spot, ordering the same thing, doing another round of people-watching. Maybe one of these days he will be inspired once again, maybe not, but it's probably better than locking himself in, wallowing in self-pity.

Earpiece in, the rest of the world out, he walks home, nodding his head to the beat, unaware of a pair of eyes following him until he turns the corner, doing their own observation.