In Plain Sight


The cold sucks out the warm inside as the door lets them conflict for a moment. It is not the first or last time the open door would come as it is a busy morning for coffee drinkers and pastry pundits. Watching those passing by through the large windows on the busy sidewalk along the busy street outside is a favorite pass time. One could stroll through a field of slipping hours guessing which will bring themselves inside the shop or just observing them go about their way. The spectrum of different personalities through the glass was a sight, but inside the comfort of the shop itself was group of faces differing from one to the next in the same manner. Perhaps the only thing that makes this group different is that they are affiliated with one another buy the walls in which they have all taken shelter here. Unsystematic are the people that pass, but in here there is at least one thin piece of string that touches them all. On the observations of a single day that string may seem as frail and imperceptible as tooth floss, but if given the time to watch the unique feet prints mark the floor you can see it differently. A footprint comes once, returns for a second time, then a third, and continues returning alongside many others in a similar manner. The time of day is understandably chaotic for some as it is precise and uniform for others, with all their own mannerisms and rituals orchestrating their symphony at this point of the grand show. Whether this little place is the stage on which they welcome their new day, the last retreat before they bow in to the night, or one of a thousand junctions in between does not dispel the connection. They all frequent the comfort as a group, unplanned and unknowing of how communal it all is.

As disconnected as the experience may be sometimes, we can never shake what brings us together. No matter how much smaller it may have become over time.

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