the morning air was coated in the mindless chatter complemented by the predatory pigeons stalking their prey – stray breadcrumbs – with their beady eyes.
i sat in the corner, my table facing the faraway harbor.
i didn’t see the little girl running after her mother in a tumble of giggles.
i didn’t see the tired father rock his baby in vain attempts to pacify the infant.
i didn’t see the young couple, both sneaking glances at each other past their menus.
i didn’t see the old man, bending over a newspaper with a heavy sigh.
i looked at the ripples of the water. the indentations. the flutters borne from the wind caressing my face.
i looked at the seagulls. their grace. the slow swoops as they bent down to glide against the salted water.
i looked at the ships. their dominance. the seawater they swallowed as the inched past my eyes, their noises and people blending into the gray morning air.
i looked at the buildings. their resoluteness. they lined the lapping waves, their raw texture a reminder of their endurance.
then the morning drifted away in a surreptitious silence, the darkness it wrought a comfortable shadow.