a bakers dozen

being a clique can be rapturously wonderful sometimes.

while waiting for my avacado blt bagel and sipping on blackberry lemonade in einsteins, i took a gander at my habitat. the september afternoon sun filtered through the changing leaves on center street, to shallowly hit the auburn wood floors, warming the wood grain. the fall colors from the window paint caught my eye and lead me to peer with interest at the woman in the corner, crouched over her bagel and shmear with a book. to my right sat two gentlemen,very clearly on lunch from business. they knew one another but did not speak or even sit at the same table. instead, their rapt attention was in perusing their respective laptops and plinking out memos. they both stood at the same time, straightened their ties, walked out the door, and finally exchanged a friendly word in the open air. then without a moments hesitation they each turned on their heel and briskly strode in opposite directions to board into their luxurious SUVs. and last but not least, in the opposite corner from the woman sat a young grandpa with a soft bristled mustache and kind eyes, splaying the day's headlines before him at arms length, as if observing a troubled friend with his coffee as protection.

and so. i followed suite. this habitat was moving and breathing and it would be rather rude for me not to join in. i removed a book from my purse and alternated between bagel and book, bagel and book. my back leaned into the comforting high-back wood chair. and i smiled inside at the picturesqueness of  reading a fresh book with a bagel in einsteins.