“They’re so few,” he thinks.
And he pushes open the door to the cafe, walks past empty tables, orders the soup.
A flat white.
A pot of tea.
“A flat white and a pot of tea?” asks the woman serving him.
He pauses, not knowing what to say, not even knowing why he ordered both.
“Both?” she asks again.
“Yes, both for me.”
In minutes she appears and places the cups and the bowl of soup in front of him.
Minutes later she re-appears with a panini.
“Mind if I join you for my lunch?” she asks as she sits.
He shakes his head.
“Thanks. It’s always dead on a Wednesday.”
“Looks like it,” says Toby.
“What are you writing?” asks Emmie, looking at his notepad, open on the desk.