| Bookmark (June 2000) Lowering my book to the table, I pull myself from that world; I slide in the bookmark, and look around the room. The caf� is abuzz: People sitting at tables, others working at the counter, and more coming through the door; machines hissing and whirring to deliver coffee and chai; music floating from speakers. My glass is nearly empty, but I savor the final few sips, and I take stock of my neighbors: young women and men, most reading; one girl, very thin and very pierced, drawing; another, with a pink winter cap on, writing in a notebook. Behind the counter, employees joke and tell stories; waiting to be served, a couple trades whispers. I want to know each of them: their names and their thoughts and their feelings; what they are talking about, writing about, drawing and reading; how their day has been, their lives; why they are here at this moment, and what they think it means; but I�ve finished my drink and there are people waiting for a table. |