|Posted by secondthoughtsmagazine on May 2, 2012 at 9:15 PM|
Sarah Jean Alexander
The coffee was burnt, but I was in a hurry.
It would do.
I almost spilled some on my way to the sugar counter,
trying to navigate my way around a man who was
too busy typing on his i-Pad to notice the steady flow
of people rushing around him on their lunch breaks.
A homeless woman walked into the café.
In a loud, resounding yell, she asked for five dollars,
or a twenty would do.
No one stopped to look her way,
but my hands shook as I poured my milk.
"You're pathetic—you're a sorry excuse for a human,"
she spat before she walked back onto the street.
The man with the i-Pad looked up at me.
He had a bad haircut, and his suit didn’t fit.
"She was talking to you, you know."
I sighed and capped my cup.
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