The Missing Week
A great silence settled across the land.
For about a second. After the second, a group of people, uncomfortable with the silence, started shouting and barking (yes, barking) loudly, making it, on average, louder than it had been before the silence. And before the silence it had been a nice, quiet-ish level of sound, ideal for sitting back and reading a book. Or a magazine, if you don't read books.
Except he had been sitting in a coffee shop, and, while it was mostly quiet, he couldn't quite read, because he kept getting jostled by people shuffling by in an area too cozy with arm chairs and sofas. His biggest fear, in the back of his mind, creeping towards the front every time he heard the honk of furniture sliding across the floor, was getting burned by the contents of someone's coffee as they jostled by, pinballed off a sofa or its inhabitants into himself.
That or meeting someone. Because he didn't want to have to tell his kids he met their mom in a coffee shop. He wasn't so sure what stigma was going to be, being associated with lurking around coffee shops all the time.
When the great noise finally settled down, well, what do you know? He met someone. She spilled coffee on him, fell over his chair, and almost knocked herself out on an old man's knee (he seemed to get a particular thrill out of it, anyway), and there you have it.
disclaimer:
Is this the missing week?
Maybe. Maybe not. Only we know for sure. And then I wouldn't even be too sure.
Go figure.
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